


Nukume Dori - Consequence

by Leareth



Series: Nukume Dori [4]
Category: CLAMP - Works, Tokyo Babylon, X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Family, Ensemble Cast, Epic, Epic Love, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fix-It, Gen, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Post-Canon Fix-It, The Author Fixes EVERYTHING, The Author Regrets Nothing, Time Travel Fix-It, Tokyo (City)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 89,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leareth/pseuds/Leareth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bet is over. Seishirou has disappeared, while Subaru sits in Kyoto at the head of his clan remembering nothing of his love. Desperate to protect her grandson, Lady Sumeragi has blocked all memories of the Sakurazukamori from Subaru's mind with devastating consequences, blocks which Shouhei, the skilled Sumeragi bastard, has to constantly maintain. Hokuto too is confined to Kyoto, and can only helplessly watch as her twin fades away. Her one lifeline is a telephone to Kuzuki Kakyou, her last friend in Tokyo, who is yet unaware of his own past connection to the Final Day.</p><p>The past will soon catch up. When it does, Seishirou will have to face what he has been determinedly avoiding, Hokuto must learn the cost of independence, and Subaru must see whether or not he can forgive. And all the while, Ishikuro Yoshirou, an ambitious Tokyo agent and old friend of Shouhei's, has started his own hunt for the Sakurazukamori.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I assure you, Director-General, the Sumeragi take the feud far more seriously than I."
> 
> "Is that what happened five years ago?"

**November 1996**  
**Tokyo**

Okada Nobuo was preparing to leave his office when the phone rang. "Director-General," his secretary said calmly, "Ishikuro-san is asking to speak to you on line one." 

"I'm busy." The silver and blue tie, Okada decided, which his brother-in-law had given him as omiyage from Italy.

"I've told him as much, sir, but he's being insistent."

His brother-in-law had also recommended the ambitious young man who never hesitated to leverage the connection to demand attention. "Insist to Ishikuro-kun that I'm busy," Okada said absently to the speaker-phone, "which I am. Is the car ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I'm going." He ended the call and finished putting on his tie. The other tie, the green one from his youngest daughter, was rolled up and put on a shelf with the other members of its family. Okada closed the door on them, fetched his coat, scarf, briefcase, and the dark grey sealed file from his desk, then left.

The usual pair of bodyguards followed him down to the car. One of them got into the driver's seat, the other opened the door for Okada before climbing in also. Okada did not acknowledge their ubiquitous presence beyond a brief nod of his head. Nor did he bother looking up from his file to watch the city lights silently passing in the night outside the window. The scratch of turning papers filled the car.

The restaurant wasn't particularly far from Shinjuku, but its traditional architecture made it feel a world apart. Repeatedly reconstructed after fire and war, the restaurant had, over a century, carefully built its reputation as an elegant establishment, with quality quietly evident throughout its food, gardens, private rooms, and, most importantly, utmost discretion in service. Its clientele came from the highest levels of society and politics, who did their part to ensure its reputation extended no further than those circles, thus making it perfect for meetings one preferred not be known to the public. This meeting of the Director-General of Japan's Public Security Intelligence Agency was certainly one of those. 

A kimono-clad woman, her coiffed hair streaked with grey, greeted Okada with a bow as he stepped from the car followed by the second bodyguard. "Director-General," she said, "you honour us with your presence."

"It is always a pleasure to dine at your establishment, madame," Okada replied gravely, handing her his coat. His briefcase with the file inside was not handed over. "Is the usual room prepared?"

"Of course, sir. If you would follow me ..."

She led him and the bodyguard through low-lit corridors lined with golden screens, each individually painted with seasonal scenes, flowers, animals, fish, and more. Some of these screens were ajar allowing Okada to glimpse people inside talking, eating, and drinking. Their voices drowned out what little noise his shoes made on the polished dark wood floor. Soon they arrived at a double screen door painted with an eagle in full flight, which the woman gracefully opened. There were far fewer voices around them here, and, when Okada entered the room and the doors closed behind him, the voices disappeared completely.

There was already a steaming teapot waiting on the low table, along with two cups and a small bronze bell, all artfully placed to focus the eye against the backdrop of the late autumn garden beyond the open screen doors. Removing his shoes, Okada placed the briefcase on the floor next to a cushion which he sat down on with a wince, then poured out a single cup, his back blade-straight. Even in this space of utmost privacy, reinforced by his bodyguard outside the doors and the other at the garden's nearby edge, Okada was not a man who easily let himself relax. He did, however, close his eyes for some moments, breathing in the fragrant tea to focus for the meeting ahead.

When he opened his eyes, there was a man standing in the open doorway.

"Director-General," said the Sakurazukamori calmly. "I hope you have not been waiting long."

Even after all these years, Okada could never hear the man approach. "Not at all," Okada replied, gesturing to the second cushion. "Please, take a seat."

Sakurazuka Seishirou, former veterinarian, current Sakurazukamori, and always one around whom Okada kept up his guard, hung his long black coat on a hook by the doorway, removed his shoes, then sat on the cushion across the table. Like Okada his back was perfectly straight; unlike Okada who was starting feel each of his sixty-one years in his bones, Sakurazuka was in the prime of life some months after his thirtieth official birthday. Dark hair fell over a handsome face and a smile that was perfectly congenial, until one looked closely at his eyes. They were a striking shade of amber-gold, with a cold intensity that, together with the proud ease with which Sakurazuka carried himself, often made Okada think of the eagle painted on the door. It was not by chance that they always met in this room.

Okada knew exactly what this man was. He also knew that he was one of the very select few who was allowed to know and live.

"I trust that you have been well these past few months," the assassin said, refilling Okada's teacup and pouring out his own.

"Very well, thank you, if busy. National security never takes a holiday, as you know."

"Yes, I saw the recent headlines about the Osaka operation. I myself looked briefly into it some months ago, but you seemed to have things well in hand."

"That, and there was no sign of any spiritual activity to mandate your involvement. Shall I call for our food?" Sakurazuka nodded and Okada reached for the small bronze bell, ringing it once. "And how about yourself, have you also been busy?"

"No more than usual. Spirits and the dead know better than to ask for my assistance on a whim, and the living who try to do so never ask a second time."

Okada smiled a little. "I take it that Councilman Todayama tried?"

"Summoning spirits to harass critics is a novel way to respond to bad press. Unfortunately for the councilman, and fortunately for his not-so-easily intimidated critics, he didn't do his research properly. He was under the impression that the Sakurazukamori was a high-level vengeful spirit, as opposed to, well, myself." Sakurazuka sipped his tea with a chuckle. "I hope the aftermath didn't cause you much trouble."

"Actually, I had just had a file on Todayama opened when I heard you stepped in, so I should be thanking you for saving me trouble. As for the aftermath, his widow announced less than a week after the mourning period that she was remarrying, thus making official her long-whispered about affair. Scandalous, but—" A polite knock interrupted him. "Enter," Okada called.

The doors slid open and a pair of kimono-clad women entered, each bearing a stack of lacquer food trays. As Okada and Sakurazuka drank their tea, the women moved in silence, setting the trays out on the table with smooth elegance, and, once done, just as silently departed with no interaction other than a bow. Only when the doors were closed again did Okada continue. "Scandalous, but she's happy so she doesn't care."

"And rightly so. Those who care too much about the opinions of others never find their own way in life."

"Or happiness. Shall we eat?"

"Please, after you."

"Very well.  _Itadakimasu._ "

" _Itadakimasu._ "

They took up their chopsticks and began. A small plate of sashimi, fresh vegetable and seafood tempura, rice, soup, pickled side dishes, and more; all simple seasonal food but elevated to art by its quality and expert preparation. Rather than spoil the meal with more work talk, Okada and Sakurazuka turned their conversation to lighter matters: current affairs, politics, sake brands, property prices and such. It was a conversation which had begun nine years ago, when Okada had come into his leadership, or, arguably, over seventeen years ago when, as one of the previous Director-General's most trusted deputies, Okada had been appointed to the small and very much off-the-books team handling Sakurazuka and his predecessor. Okada still remembered how unnerved he had been when he first met Sakurazuka Setsuka, and how even more unnerved he had been to see Setsuka's perfect, empty smile replicated in the boy who was her son. Yet while Setsuka had had little interest in the outside world and delighted in unsettling everyone around her, Sakurazuka Seishirou at thirteen had been highly curious, and already adept at using social mores to mask his true self, a skill which, over the years, Okada had watched be honed to an art, like a katana's elegant sheath. Certainly Okada enjoyed speaking with Seishirou far more than he had with Seishirou's deceased mother.

That didn't mean Okada wasn't careful around him, but.

The meal finished, and its remains were smoothly cleaned away by the silent women. "So," said Sakurazuka as they sat back with cups of sake, "what is it you would ask of me this time?"

Okada reached to open his briefcase. "Are you familiar with Hiroyoshi Satou?"

"Only when a newspaper deigns to print his columns; I haven't sought out his longer works. Are they much the same?"

"Ultra-nationalism dressed up in nostalgia and reasonable argument, yes. We have him and his serious followers under observation, but there's something in his latest publication I would request your assistance with." He took out the grey file offering it with both hands, and Sakurazuka received it likewise. "There's an extract inside, the relevant quotes are highlighted."

Sakurazuka opened the file and flipped through to read. "He claims to have raised the ghost of Kita Ikki? Whatever for?" Sakurazuka sounded amused.

"At best, inspiration for himself, at worst inspiration for other writers. It's not clear if Hiroyoshi was successful, and, if so, if he did it himself or if turned to an unscrupulous onmyouji, but either way, I was hoping you would agree to investigate and terminate."

"He could at least have the good taste to try for the ghost of Mishima Yukio or such," said Sakurazuka, chuckling in a way that reminded Okada of the time he and twenty-year old Sakurazuka had discussed Mishima's works over dinner into the early hours of morning. "But yes, you can leave it with me. Do you want there to be a message?"

"Given his following, yes." Okada watched Sakurazuka leaf idly through the file. "There is, however, one complication: you will have to go to Kyoto."

The pages stopped. Okada noted it before continuing. "I understand that it is easier to work in Tokyo and you have not stepped into Kyoto for some years, but I hope you can make an exception for this assignment. Hiroyoshi is not in the best of health and hates traveling, as such he practically never leaves his home city. Certainly he never comes to Tokyo." Still Sakurazuka did not respond, apparently examining the file, though Okada observed he had not turned a page since. "Does that change matters?"

Sakurazuka looked up with a smile. The perfect, empty smile. "Certainly not. I'll be there before the end of the week."

Okada let out a breath in relief: Sakurazuka had given his word, and that meant, no matter happened from here on, the agreement was sealed. Even more than the restaurant, the Sakurazukamori knew the importance of ancient reputation. "The re-gathered Sumeragi clan is not a problem, then?"

"Only if they find me." With a snap the file was shut, and Sakurazuka put it on the table exchanging it for the sake bottle. "Some more for you, Director-General?"

Okada nodded and let his cup be filled. He wasn't, however, so easily put off, though he picked his next words carefully. "I know it is long-standing policy that, so long as any harm is contained, the government will not interfere with private feuds, particularly one with so long a history, but I must say that I have always thought it a pity that our two greatest onmyouji clans be at odds."

"The policy is appreciated." Sakurazuka's reply was flippant, and he lifted his sake cup to drink. "Though I assure you, Director-General, the Sumeragi take the feud far more seriously than I."

"Is that what happened five years ago?"

The sake cup stilled. Sakurazuka's amber-gold eyes glittered at Okada. "The past is just that: past."

Another shut down, just like all the others whenever Okada tried to probe about the closing of Sakurazuka's veterinary clinic in 1991. Inwardly Okada sighed; he had always thought it a pity, for the student Sakurazuka had always been so determined to live in the middle of people and society, but, more interestingly, it was a rare instance of Sakurazuka asking Okada for help. At the time Sakurazuka hadn't said why beyond the cover of 'Sakurazuka-sensei' being compromised. It was only several weeks later, when word spread that the scattered members of the Sumeragi clan were moving back to Kyoto, that Okada realised who Sakurazuka must have been compromised by.

Okada still wondered about that. He had known back then that the thirteenth Sumeragi head and his sister were living in Tokyo not far from Sakurazuka, but he had also met the thirteenth head then and been less than impressed. Instead of the forceful, clear-eyed young man Okada had anticipated, Lady Sumeragi's heir and student had been a fragile pretty boy with all the confidence of a weaning puppy. It wouldn't have surprised Okada if, despite his power, Sumeragi Subaru had been utterly oblivious to the Sakurazukamori's presence, or at least avoided any chance of conflict. Certainly Okada had never heard of any trouble between them, and Sakurazuka, although he knew the Sumeragi was about, never mentioned meeting the boy. And yet ...

Polite silence as the two of them drank. Okada surreptitiously studied his companion over his cup. And yet, it was obvious that something had happened. Refusals to talk about the Sumeragi and go to Kyoto aside, Okada always felt that Sakurazuka had  _changed_  since that time. Something about the edge of his perfect smile, or the touch of impatience to his otherwise consummate manners. Okada knew better than to demand an explanation; Sakurazuka was no subordinate or junior colleague, and he certainly wasn't anything familial. To the extent that Sakurazuka acknowledged Okada, it was at best as a distant guardian, and Okada would not push for more.

That didn't mean Okada didn't feel some protectiveness, but.

Sakurazuka set his cup down. "I should be going. I'll return this—" he slid the grey file towards Okada, "—and make my own travel arrangements. I trust you'll cover everything as usual?" Okada said of course. "Then I'll send word when I'm done."

"I look forward to it." Already Sakurazuka was pulling on his black coat, and when he stood from putting on his shoes, he looked for all the world like a company executive, or one of the lawyers Okada's eldest daughter worked with. He turned to take his leave out the garden door without looking back, and only then did Okada add something for himself. "Be careful in Kyoto, Sakurazuka-kun," he said gravely.

Sakurazuka paused. Glanced ever so slightly over his shoulder with a strange smile. "Why would I be anything else?"

And he was gone.

There was still a finger-width of sake left in the bottle. Okada contemplatively poured it out for himself measuring that smile against others over the years. The bright, frightening young mirror of Setsuka's empty one. The effortless reaction when Okada found him with fingernail scratches behind his fourteen-year old neck. The polite curve of lips when Sakurazuka informed that he was now the Sakurazukamori, or when Sakurazuka announced his intention to study veterinary science at university. The confidence when Sakurazuka said he was opening an animal clinic under his own name in the middle of Tokyo. The perfect smile when, after the clinic's abrupt closure, Okada asked what had happened and was told there was nothing left to worry about.

For all the changing circumstances, the emptiness of those smiles had remained the same. Nowadays, but, every so often there would be a smile that was less empty, and at last Okada felt he could conclusively say he knew what triggered them: Kyoto, and the Sumeragi who lived there. Why that was he was still yet to figure out.

The lights of Tokyo glowed above the trees. Placing the empty sake cup down, Okada got to his feet, locked the file into his briefcase and gathered his shoes, then signaled his leaving with a ring of the bell.

 

* * *

 

If secretaries were reflections of their boss, then going by her desk the Director-General's secretary was exactly as expected: neat, efficient, and definitely not careless. Unlike other desks Yoshirou had poked into over the years, this one had all its files securely locked away, with not a teacup stain or personal photo to be seen. Still, his investigations to pass the time – one hour, forty two minutes and sixteen seconds as of this instant and counting – weren't entirely wasted going by all the candy wrappers—

The elevator pinged. Placing the rubbish bin back in its exact place, Yoshirou quickly got to his feet and away from the desk. "Director-General," he said, bowing. "Special Investigator Ishikuro, if you recall."

Flanked by bodyguards, PSIA Director-General Okada stepped out and looked Yoshirou up and down. "Investigator," he replied cordially. "Working late?"

The old man smelled faintly of sake, Yoshirou noted, holding back the gag reflex, and there was a slim locked briefcase in his hand. "But of course. I've finished the preliminary research into the Kansai group, and it should be on your desk as soon as it's ticked off."

"I'll look forward to it." The Director-General made to walk towards his office and end the conversation, but Yoshirou wasn't so easily put off.

"I was also hoping to speak with you, sir." The Director-General paused and Yoshirou pressed into the opening. "It's about a proposal I think would be of benefit to us both."

For a long moment the Director-General looked at him, gaze as heavy as old wood. Yoshirou looked straight back, head held high even though his height already gave him an advantage. Testing the old man in return.

The Director-General passed. With a single nod, the two bodyguards immediately and silently departed like the trained dogs they were. Yoshirou didn't bother seeing where they went; they didn't matter. Not when the Director-General was opening the door of his office and waiting for him. Grinning, Yoshirou stepped inside.

"You have been determined to get my attention today," Okada remarked, closing the door behind them. Yoshirou took in the space with a hungry glance—the solid rosewood desk, shelves of books filling one wall, the locked filing cabinets, rich brown leather sofas around a designer glass-and-chrome coffee table—noting any differences from his first visit nearly eighteen months ago. "I believe the word my secretary used earlier was 'insistent'."

"I'm not one to let opportunity slip by." He spotted a new photograph on the shelves: Okada with three women, one older in kimono and two younger, one dressed in a tailored suit, the other in a party dress. Some celebration for one of Okada's daughters, perhaps, going by the various smiles.

"As people have noticed. Drink? Just water, I understand you don't like alcohol."

"Yes, please."

Okada nodded and, placing his briefcase under his desk, went to the wide window and the sideboard there, upon which sat a clear full jug and some glasses. "So what is it that had you lying in ambush outside my office door?" the older man asked as he poured.

"I want to work on the greys."

The pouring stopped. "The greys," Okada repeated evenly. "Should I be adding 'presumptuous' or 'arrogant' to insistent and opportunistic?"

Yoshirou shrugged, covering how his every sense was alert for the other's reaction. "I was hoping for 'ambitious'."

"Ambition is not something this agency is short of." Water began to flow again, its sound gliding up in pitch as Okada filled the second glass. "At your level I usually see it jockeying for something glamorous like the America or China file. The greys, on the other hand, never come up in rotation requests. Actually, most agents of your level aren't aware they exist."

The old man sounded far too conversational. "Is 'aren't aware' the same as 'aren't allowed'?"

"You're certainly not encouraged to know." Deliberately, Okada walked over to Yoshirou with a glass in each hand, but didn't offer one. "How did you learn about them?"

Yoshirou met the hard gaze squarely. "Insubordination. I challenged my section chief on his inefficiency one too many times, so he sent me to Archives for a month. I noticed missing files when I was auditing, so I followed up and discreetly asked around."

"Yamakawa-san does have his particular way of doing things. Sometimes that way is worth challenging." Still Okada didn't offer the glass. "And what did you find out?"

"That there's another highly restricted category of files besides red. Red every agent knows about the way the public knows about this organisation: it's there, but what it does exactly is strictly confidential. The greys on the other hand, as you said, most agents aren't aware they exist in the first place, in no small part because as far as I can tell, the grey files are something you, and only you, manage personally. Which is appropriate, given the subject-matter."

"Which is?"

"Ghosts, sir." Yoshirou carved the word from air like crystal. "Ghosts and spirits and what I refuse to call magic because it has a proper name: onmyoujitsu."

For the second time that night, Okada simply looked at him with that heavy gaze. For the second time Yoshirou simply looked back, unbowed and waiting. At last Okada handed him the glass of water. "In the eyes of most, magic and onmyoujitsu are one and the same," Okada said as if Yoshirou had just commented on the weather, though he did step away. A classic observer/judge position if Yoshirou ever saw one. "Most would also say those who believe in onmyoujitsu aren't the kind of sound minds one wants working in a place like the PSIA."

"It's a good thing I don't believe, then. Belief implies faith in something unknown or uncertain, and I know for a fact that spirits and onmyoujitsu are none of those things."

"And how did you come about this knowledge?"

Yoshirou sipped his water preparing his reply. "An incident when I was in university. A young woman committed suicide after failing exams, and as I had been her tutor her ghost blamed me." He spared her a thought, but only briefly, to make the well-worn half-truths seem fresh. "At first, I dismissed the strange occurrences around me as tricks played by other students. It worked when the occurrences were misplaced objects and odd sounds, but when the repertoire expanded to disembodied screams in the dead of night and healthy tree branches breaking off as I walked beneath, I ran out of reasonable explanations. Another student noticed, and offered to help. When I demanded how he said he was an onmyouji.

"I was skeptical, obviously. The student had just started a couple of years below in my psych course, and was wholly unremarkable. Still he insisted, saying it was his job, and with no better options, I relented on the condition that he explain everything he was doing. He did, in spades, about the range of an onmyouji's powers and responsibilities, to the interaction of the five elements and the hierarchy of spirits. He hadn't told many people about his abilities before, and, since I was insanely curious about him rather than frightened, after the ghost was exorcised we realised we had become friends."

"He tells you about his work, then?"

"Correct, sir, although in past tense. He left Sendai not long after I moved to Tokyo and we've fallen out of touch over the years, but I will always remember him for opening my eyes to an unseen world and everything that goes with it. Spirits are a fact of life, onmyoujitsu is a discipline, and onmyouji are specialists in that discipline just as musicians specialise in music. I may not be able to play music myself, but I understand the rules enough to appreciate—and criticise—when musicians do."

"Hm." Okada swirled the water in his glass either contemplating or delaying the inevitable point of decision, or both. "And because you claim to know these rules, you want to work on the greys."

"I certainly think I'll be a great asset."

"Yet I believe you never worked on any files involving spiritual activity during your previous role with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. Why is that?"

The Director-General did know him. Yoshirou sipped his water again, feeling himself puff up. "Because I was in Internal Review, sir. Not the kind of area where one has opportunities to encounter this sort of thing."

"Or opportunities to make friends. Although I understand you're not particularly bothered by such things." There was no insult in Okada's tone, merely observation. "Connections, on the other hand, are a different matter. You think that working on the grey files means working directly with me, and just as a tree on the mountainside puts its fellows on the plains in shadow, being able to associate yourself with me will allow you to rise above your fellows."

Yoshirou shrugged. "The thought did cross my mind."

"Your candour is appreciated," replied Okada dryly. "How long have you been working here by now?"

"Sixteen months. Closer to seventeen."

"And if you were in my position, Ishikuro-san, would you put a junior investigator with not even a year and a half worth of experience on a highly sensitive class of files that officially doesn't exist?"

"Certainly not. However, with all due respect sir, I'm not in your position, and you're a wiser man than I when it comes to recognising skill and potential."

Okada laughed. On instinct Yoshirou's fingers tightened on his glass, and he had to consciously tell himself this was no overbred idiot laughing at him, this was the head of the national public security agency whose amusement could be a good thing. "You're a bold one, I'll give you that," Okada said when he was done, "and while there's no shortage of bold ambition here, more imagination and initiative never goes astray. But I'm not going to put you on the grey files."

The triumph that had been growing on Yoshirou's face suddenly died. "What?"

"You heard correctly: your request is declined." Okada put his water glass down, turning it so that it caught the light. "I don't deny your skills and potential, but more than your lack of experience is your lack of record. You're correct: I do manage the grey files personally for very good reasons, and those who assist me are a very select few with long proven records. Records that demonstrate a dozen times over that they can be trusted completely. You, young man, don't have that."

A calm, traitorous part of Yoshirou's mind was observing that the light on the glass of water looked rather like the light from a fishing boat. It only made the vein in his jaw twitch even more. "However," Okada continued off-handedly, "this doesn't mean I can't use you."

"Sir?"

The Director-General went to his desk. "You will keep working in your current role, under your current supervisors, with your current performance goals. At the same time, and only where you have the time, I'd like you to keep an eye on police reports for anything out of the ordinary that you think I should be aware of."

The boat light passed from his field of vision. Yoshirou felt his pulse speed up. "What kind of out of the ordinary?"

"The kind of out of the ordinary that you've just said you understand and recognise. Whether it's petty or profound, if there's spiritual activity involved in any way, even as a possibility, I want it brought to my attention."

"For what purpose?"

"That will be none of your business. But if you perform as well as you think you can—" here Okada opened the briefcase he had been holding earlier and held up a sealed file grey as steel, "—one day I will allow it to be your business."

Like a magnet Yoshirou's eyes fixed on the grey file, both information and confirmation and full of future promise. Okada noticed, of course, and deliberately held the file up a fraction longer before putting it on his desk. "Focus on Tokyo, though periodically checking into the police regions of Kanto, Kinki, Tohoku, and so on will also be useful. I'll arrange for you to be given clearance to access their files – I trust you retain your skills from Internal Review. Passive investigation only, and I expect you to maintain your current work to standard." He glanced up catching Yoshirou's eye meaningfully. "You are, of course, smart enough to know that this conversation never happened."

"Of course, sir." Yoshirou knew better than to be seen to grin now, but it didn't stop his impertinence. "You found a particularly good onmyouji to alter my memories."

"That can be arranged, but I trust you won't give me cause to." Okada turned to his desk. "Leave the glass on the table on your way out."

A clear dismissal, if not particularly polite. Then again, the Director-General didn't have to be, especially to someone like Yoshirou. But over time with tireless exemplary work ...

The old man was pointedly turning papers on his desk. Drawing himself straight, Yoshirou crisply bowed, turned, and, after pointedly leaving his half-full glass in the centre of the Director-General's coffee table, quietly left. Once the door was shut he grinned, wide and toothy and smug. Another successful step up. He was already thinking of his next one.

 

 **November 1996**  
**Sagano Kyoto**

Tugging the sleeve of his haori into place, Kitajima Shouhei leaned uneasily into the wooden veranda's shade, wondering how much longer the good days would last. Already the maple stretching over the Sumeragi estate's driveway was dripping deep red leaves, and there was a crispness to the air despite the sun's brightness. Shouhei wondered if the ocean winds back in Sendai had already started bringing snow—

"Excuse me, Kitajima-kun," said an irritated sigh behind him. Shouhei registered it, but held his place just a second longer before turning to the older man approaching from behind with a suitcase and shoes in hand. "Of all the— is the taxi here yet?"

"Good afternoon, Takeshi-san," Shouhei inclined his head, face studiously respectful behind his glasses, "and no, the taxi hasn't arrived."

Sumeragi Takeshi, whose forty-six years showed only in the streaks of silver coming through at his temples, huffed under his breath as he rolled his suitcase to a stop and sat down to put on his shoes. "By 'hasn't arrived' do you mean it hasn't arrived here because it can't cross the gate wards, or it hasn't arrived, period?"

"The latter. But it should be on its way." Shouhei glanced at the suitcase, which for a four or five day trip was rather large and full.

Takeshi saw him glancing. Stood up and straightened his coat before giving Shouhei a look with eyebrows raised into a pointed hint. Shouhei sighed and took the handle, lifting the suitcase over the door's step with a grunt. The suitcase was as heavy as it looked.

"—and make sure they do all their homework Maruya-sensei said Eiji-kun can do much better than he's doing now—" Shouhei and Takeshi glanced up as a small group came around the corner towards them: a woman and man in their early forties, accompanied by two young, squabbling children. "—Eri-chan stop fighting with your brother—"

"But he's taken my Gundam—"

"Katsumi-san." Letting go of the bag Shouhei gave the woman a brief bow. "Good afternoon, and to you as well, Kenichi-san, and Eri-chan and Eiji-kun."

Gripping the handle of a black suitcase in one hand and the wrist of her eleven-year old daughter in the other, Sumeragi Katsumi slowed and stopped before Shouhei, her moon-round face beaming with a smile. "Kitajima-kun! And Takeshi, good to see you're ready to go. What are you doing here, Kitajima-kun, have you come to see us off?"

 _Of course not._ "We're expecting a client to come by this afternoon," Shouhei explained evenly. "I'm here to receive them but it seems they're running late."

"A visiting client? So the Head himself is going to—Eiji-kun!" Katsumi's smile instantly switched to a glare as her younger son dashed past brandishing a toy robot and spitting out laser sound effects. "Don't run so close to the veranda edge—Kenichi!"

Harried and sweaty, Katsumi's husband Kenichi was already pushing by them after his son. "I know, I know—Eiji-kun!"

"Oh for heaven's sa—" Takeshi lunged after his suitcase as it started to roll towards the steps.

"Make him give back _my_ Gundam!" complained Eri.

"Pewpewpew!"

Shouhei rolled his eyes. As Eiji ran past again, he reached out and swiftly snatched the toy robot out of the boy's hand. "Hey!" Eiji yelled as Shouhei handed the toy to the delighted Eri.

"Thanks." Huffing, Kenichi flashed Shouhei a smile from his heavy-set face, and once again Shouhei couldn't help but liken him to an eager-to-please dog. "How you get him to sit still during training I don't know!"

"He knows if he doesn't concentrate he has to face Lady Sumeragi. Are you all right there, Takeshi-san?"

"Yes, yes." Scowling, Takeshi set his suitcase upright properly and dusted off the knees of his charcoal suit. "That boy—don't you ever punish your children, Katsumi?"

"Of course, just not to the extent you think I should, cousin." Katsumi's smile had turned toothily sweet. "I don't want them growing up like you, after all."

Takeshi sniffed. "Disciplined and self-controlled?"

"You mean stiff and humourless? Remind me again why you're no longer married—"

"Excuse me." Lifting his squirming son into his arms, Kenichi deliberately smiled between his wife and Takeshi. "If you're going to talk like that I think I'll take the children back to our rooms to rest and clean up before dinner. Eri-chan?"

The little girl looked up from her toy. "I want to say bye to mama!" she protested.

"Of course, darling, that's what we're here for now—"

"Not _now!_ " Eri actually stamped her foot. "When she's _really_ going!"

"You should really have your nap before dinner—"

"It's all right, dear, she can stay out here," said Katsumi soothingly. "Kitajima-kun or one of the other servants can walk her back afterwards, right, Kitajima-kun?"

It had taken Shouhei nearly three years to realise that Katsumi's off-hand comments putting him with the servants weren't always unintentional. "Of course," he said neutrally.

"Then Eiji-kun, say goodbye to mama." Still carrying his son, Kenichi leaned Eiji over to his wife.

"Mm!" Katsumi kissed Eiji's cheek. "Be good while 'kaa-san goes on her work trip, all right? Study hard, listen to your Obaa-sama and great-aunt and uncle during training, and I'll see you in a few days when I've taken care of all the bad spirits, okay?"

Eiji nodded vigorously. "Scold the bad spirits away!"

"But _be careful_ ," Kenichi added.

"Of course, dear, you have nothing to worry about ..."

And yet, each time Shouhei watched Katsumi—cousin Katsumi, technically, not that she would ever allow Shouhei to call her that—with her family, Shouhei couldn't sustain any strong resentment of her. Her love for her children and husband was clear to all, she worked hard to be a good mother and wife as well as an onmyouji, and she obviously wanted one of her children to be considered for the next clan head. Unlike Takeshi's branch of the clan who refused to see Shouhei as anything but the bastard relative, Katsumi's digs at Shouhei's status weren't personal, it was simply ... family. Not that it made living in the same house any more comfortable, just a little easier. At least it was a large house.

"... and don't let the children disturb Hokuto-chan and _him_ too much, you know what I mean. Bye bye dear, and bye bye Eiji-kun!"

"Bye bye 'kaa-san!"

Katsumi kept waving while her son and husband departed back into the house. Shouhei did as well, albeit out of politeness, while Takeshi didn't even bother. "You know, between the children's noise and usual silent tension, I'm rather looking forward to Nagoya," he commented.

"Are you going after bad spirits as well, Uncle Takeshi?" asked Eri, brown eyes huge and curious as she looked up at him.

"No, I'm going to look at one of the big shrines there. But I'll do some inspections as well and see if any authorities need any help, so there may be some 'bad spirits' to deal with," Takeshi added absently as he looked out towards the main gate, one hand shading his eyes. "Where is that taxi?"

"Let's see." Smoothly Katsumi reached into the sleeve of her coat pulling out an ofuda—

"Ooh, ooh, let me, let me mama!"

Bouncing on her toes, Eri reached up for her mother's ofuda, Gundam dangling in her other hand. Katsumi blinked down, startled, then laughed. "All right. Here!"

She gave the ofuda to her daughter. Immediately Eri put her toy down and went to stand at the top of the wide stone steps, the ofuda lying across her outstretched palm. As the three adults watched Sumeragi Eri closed her eyes, let out a deep breath as she murmured the spell and ...

"Fly," the girl whispered.

The ofuda twitched and bent along its centre as if being folded into origami. It began to flutter, edges turning into wings that beat up and down with increasing strength, until what Eri was holding was no longer paper, but a small white bird about the size of a dove: the basic ofuda shikigami of the Sumeragi clan. Eri squealed with triumph as it flew up and away above her head. "I did it, see? See?"

"Very good, Eri-chan!" said Katsumi, and even Takeshi could be heard saying something similar. "Now, imagine yourself flying with it through the gate and over the road outside. What do you see?"

"Um ..." The girl's face scrunched up with the effort of sending her mind's eye out with the shikigami. "There's um, the road. I think there's a cat sitting on the opposite fence, and—oh! There's a car with a taxi sign coming around the corner now!"

"Finally," Takeshi sighed. "Better get the wards open, then. Katsumi?"

"Right with you."

Politely, Shouhei stepped back as the two older Sumeragi cousins took up places on Eri's either side. For all that Shouhei had come to know them over the past few years in this house, through dinners and ceremonies and chores and cold shoulders, watching the three of them now, two generations of onmyouji working together, he had to admit it was an impressive sight, even on something as routine as opening or closing gate wards. Takeshi was tall in his charcoal suit and his stance was straight as an arrow as he concentrated, while Katsumi held her head high, black trousers and beige belted coat giving her motherly figure a severe edge. Between them Eri, despite her cute woolen dress and braided pigtails, already had that same straightness to her shoulders, that same confidence and pride in who she was and the name she carried. _Sumeragi_.

Shouhei had always thought he was fine not having that name. It had been alarming to realise that, sometime in the years since they had all been made to move to Kyoto, those feelings had changed.

"Done," said Takeshi, sounding satisfied as he lowered his hands. "Go open the gate, Kitajima-kun."

Of course they always called him by his family name, the one from his mother's mother. Shouhei remembered little of his grandmother. He remembered even less of his grandfather, but he had inherited more than enough of him to remind these people of who he was. Stepping forward, Shouhei raised his arm and silently called. Immediately out of the air there appeared large dark wings.

"When will I find _my_ shikigami, mama?" asked Eri plaintively.

"Soon, I'm sure, you just have to keep training."

The cormorant wasn't the most graceful-looking bird, but it was more impressive than Takeshi's pheasant or Katsumi's starling, and they knew it. With a slight grin, Shouhei sent his shikigami flying off towards the main gate's left pillar where the automatic opening mechanism was, and had it press the button with its beak. Even at their distance, the creak of the heavy wooden gates pulling back was audible. "And done," Shouhei said simply.

Neither Takeshi nor Katsumi acknowledged this. Instead, they were getting their suitcases and carrying them down the stone steps of the house to the driveway, both of them animatedly chatting about their separate train times and tickets. The moment the taxi pulled up, they loaded their bags and Takeshi climbed in, crisply directing the driver to head for Kyoto station. Katsumi spared a moment to run back up the steps and give her daughter a hug. "Be good, keep practising and maybe when I get back you'll have your own shikigami to show me, okay? Bye bye!"

"Bye mama!"

Katsumi smiled and stood. Glanced at Shouhei standing next to her daughter. Shouhei politely gave her a little bow. "Have a good trip, Katsumi-san, and I hope the job goes smoothly."

"... Thank you." For a heartbeat it looked as if she would like to say something more, but instead she hurried back down and got into the taxi without looking back. The taxi drove off quickly, perhaps at Takeshi's direction, or perhaps at the driver's own discomfort being on the grounds of the whispered-about Sumeragi house with its fortress of wards. Soon Shouhei and Eri were left standing on their own.

Shouhei sensed the girl look up at him. "I'm not going to go back, you know," she declared firmly.

It had been a while since Shouhei's university studies and his introductory child psych unit, but he remembered enough to know it was better to question and listen than dismiss. "Why not?"

"I want to see what you're doing. There's a client coming soon, right? I want to see the kind of work I'll be doing when I'm a proper onmyouji."

"I think you need more training before that," said Shouhei. His cormorant was still out by the open gate, so Shouhei sent it higher to see if there was another car coming nearby—no point closing the gate or wards yet if the client was arriving soon. "Also, there's a chance this client could be a bit dangerous, so I think you should do as your parents said earlier and go back and have a nap before dinner."

"Naps are for babies. I'm not a baby like Eiji, I'm going to be the fourteenth head of the Sumeragi clan, so I need to see how proper onmyouji work. Besides," Eri added, primly and without hesitation, "you can't tell me what to do. You're a bastard."

Shouhei froze. Not from the word itself, he had heard it enough times growing up, but the fact that Eri had just _said_ it. Eri, eleven years old. Obviously Katsumi was using some choice words about him behind closed doors.

Releasing a breath, Shouhei knelt down. "It's true my mother wasn't married to my father when she had me," he said, voice calm as he faced Eri at her eye level, "but that doesn't mean she didn't know or care for him, and it doesn't change the fact that her father was the brother of our twelfth clan head. Even if my name isn't in the _koseki_ , I have the same power as you and your mother and brother because we all have the same blood. Which do you think is more important, a piece of paper that says you are your mother's daughter, or the blood and power she has given you?"

He could see the wheels turning in Eri's head as she thought. "The blood and power," she said, and then click, the wheels fell into place and something in her mind opened. "Oh!"

"So I can tell you what to do," Shouhei said, smiling.

"Mm, maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm going to listen," Eri cheekily retorted.

 _Children._ Shouhei resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you don't listen I'll tell Lady Sumeragi," he warned.

That did the trick. Eri blanched and she visibly drew in a breath – but she held her ground. "Obaa-sama isn't that scary. I mean she's scary because she's like a leader and mother and teacher all in one and everyone has to listen to her, but I'm not _actually_ scared of her. Not like Subaru-sama."

Shouhei tensed. "What do you mean?"

"Subaru-sama is actually scary." The girl's eyes were large and serious, and up this close Shouhei could see that yes, Eri was actually uneasy. "I mean, he's really nice and always kind to me and Eiji, but it's scary if I have to be alone with him. Because he has something broken inside."

For a moment the cool air felt colder. Suddenly Shouhei sensed his cormorant call out; there was a car approaching the house. "Stay then," he said roughly, getting to his feet, "but you have to be on your best behaviour and do everything I say because the client is coming now. You're a Sumeragi. Don't bring shame on that name."

" _Hai._ "

The car, a black BMW, had pulled through the gates and was coming up the drive. Shouhei directed his shikigami to close the gates behind it, and had just enough time to hide Eri's Gundam toy behind a decorative garden stone and compose himself before the car pulled up at the steps. "Matsugae-san," Shouhei said, signalling Eri to bow with him as the car doors opened. "Welcome to the Sumeragi house."

The trio that stepped from the car didn't look like they needed help at first glance. First was the father, dressed in a plain dark blue suit and tie, stepping from the front passenger seat and pausing only to tell his driver to pull to the side and wait until called for. The second was a woman, obviously his wife, wearing a cream-coloured kimono with a seasonal momiji pattern in bronze and green. She was holding the arm of a younger woman, a teenager, really, perhaps seventeen years old, pretty in a fitted black turtle-neck and stockings under a yellow-and-black tartan skirt Shouhei thought Hokuto would approve of. The young woman was smiling and chatting happily with her mother, but a closer glance showed her smile was a bit too bright, her laughter a bit too loud. Eri stared at her with morbid fascination. "There's something attached to her," she whispered to Shouhei. "Something dark."

"Shh, not so loud," Shouhei hissed back as the trio ascended the steps. He reframed his expression into a smile. "My name is Kitajima Shouhei, an onmyouji in Lady Sumeragi's personal service. I trust that you had a smooth journey?"

"We did, thank you." Matsugae was a genial man, though his face was more lined than a man of his age should be. "This is my wife Ayumi and our daughter Satoko. I ... may have mentioned her when I first called."

"Of course, and we thank you all for indulging us by coming here." Briefly, Shouhei studied Satoko through the eyes of his shikigami which had followed the car in and was perched on a stone lantern nearby. Sure enough, there was something in Satoko's shadow, furtively twitching like corpse flies. Possibly reacting to all the wards placed around the house. How dangerous it was Shouhei couldn't yet tell, but from Matsugae's initial description whatever it was was usually quiet except when ... "Eri-chan, why don't you lead Matsugae Ayumi-san and Satoko-san around to the main room?"

Eri bowed in a way that made her pink dress seem as formal as shikifuku. " _Hai._ "

She turned and led the way down the wooden veranda, head held high in a manner reminiscent of her mother. Matsugae Ayumi followed, still smilingly holding Satoko's arm even as her eyes apprehensively darted about. Satoko didn't notice as she happily and loudly admired the traditional elegance of gardens and rooms they were passing, some of which had their screens open to let in the afternoon. With a thought Shouhei directed his shikigami to close the gates and reset the wards, at the same time moving to bring up the rear alongside Matsugae. "Can you tell me when her last episode was?" he asked quietly.

"Six days ago. When I called you." Like his wife, the man was smiling with obvious nervousness. "You have lovely gardens here, I couldn't help but notice them on the way in."

"Thank you. They are largely unchanged since the first days of this house," replied Shouhei, letting Matsugae change the subject.

"That would be, what, late 1600's? Early 1700's? Although obviously the house has been reconstructed and expanded several times." As they walked, Matsugae glanced about in a way that was both admiring and desperate for distraction. "I'm a fan of gardens, I'd have a bigger one if the neighbours would allow it, with something to represent each season. The maple by your main gate is sculpted so elegantly, perfect for autumn parties, and I imagine in a house so old your sakura must be magnificent—"

"We have no sakura in our grounds," Shouhei cut in. "None whatsoever. And a word of warning, Matsugae-san, if you must talk gardening in this house you would be wise not to mention cherry blossoms. Especially before the clan heads."

He felt Matsugae stare at him, hushed and likely intimidated, but there was no time for any reply. Eri had led them into an enclosed corridor now, and stopped before a large pair of painted sliding doors. "Please take off your shoes," she said, demonstrating by example. Then she looked hopefully at Shouhei. "Can I announce them?" she asked.

Had there not been outsiders present Shouhei would have said no. As there were, Shouhei simply nodded. Eri beamed, then slid the door open and stepped inside. "If you please, Obaa-sama and Subaru-sama," she said in a clear if stilted voice. "Matsugae-san and his family are here to ask for our help."

Shouhei saw how Matsugae swallowed and squeezed his wife's arm before entering. His wife followed a step behind, gently pulling Satoko with her. With the clients inside, Shouhei took the brief moment of solitude to close his eyes and deeply breathe. Then he stepped into the room and slid the door shut behind him.

The main formal room of the Sumeragi house was large with a pleasant aspect over the gardens and pond outside. On such a fine day it had all its external screens open, and the afternoon sun was making the tatami mats glow gold. It also made the shadows in the decorative alcoves sharper and darker, so that all the objects there looked vaguely warped. There were several people at one end of the room, two standing and two seated, all apparently conferring in a quiet group. Sumeragi Nuriko was the first to turn to them, the deep lines of her kind face drawn and serious over her lavender kimono patterned with clouds. Following her line of sight was Sumeragi Takehiko, Takeshi's father, raking the visitors with a gaze as hard as the steel that now coloured his hair. His kimono was thinly striped in dark brown and blue and tied with a matching obi. As the Matsugaes bowed, these two elders nodded once in acknowledgment then, as one, stepped away to flank the group on either side of the room where they sat down. That left everyone with a clear, unobstructed view of the last two figures seated on a low dais at the room's head – and vice versa. Lady Sumeragi looked over all of them with a penetrating gaze.

"Welcome," she said, the word clearly audible though she had not raised her voice. To her right sat Sumeragi Subaru, quiet and still. "My grandson and I thank you for agreeing to come, and hope we can be of service. Please, take a seat."

Discretely, Shouhei directed Eri to stand by her grand-uncle Takeshiro, adding a whispered reminder not to move or speak before moving to take a similar place next to Sumeragi Nuriko who flashed him a brief smile. This position gave Shouhei a view of the Matsugaes who were nervously lowering themselves onto the cushions prepared for them, as well as Lady Sumeragi and Subaru. Lady Sumeragi held herself with the posture of an empress, tall and elegant in a manner that brooked no misbehaviour or challenge. She wore a cobalt kimono that set off the copper of her obi and her silver hair, and her narrow pale green eyes fixed immediately on Satoko and her shadow. Shouhei had no doubt the formidable twelfth head of the Sumeragi would fix the girl's problem, but it wasn't her he was concerned with. As always, his duty was to watch over Subaru.

Sumeragi Subaru sat in seiza, hands on knees and back straight. His short hair, recently cut by Hokuto, was black enough to set off the rich navy of his kimono and his too-pale skin. At twenty-two years of age although he was obviously taller he had not lost the slenderness of his adolescence, and his slim hands were covered in gloves. Although it was impossible that an onmyouji of his enormous power could miss Satoko, Subaru did not look at her and instead seemed to have fixed his gaze somewhere in the air above the Matsugaes' heads. Somewhere not here. Judging from the expression on his face, it was somewhere peaceful.

Shouhei knew how deceptive that expression was, but that was fine. The question was whether the calm would last and allow the thirteenth head to conduct this job as everyone hoped he should. A test.

"Tell us what is wrong," Lady Sumeragi said to Matsugae.

The man glanced uneasily at all the eyes in the room before taking a deep breath. "My wife and daughter and I are a good family. We live quietly in Himeji where I run a successful business, my wife runs me and our house, and our only child Satoko goes to high school. We've brought her up well, she's never given us trouble or cause for disappointment, and although we push her to do well at the end of the day the important thing is that she's happy. Up until four months ago, we were a perfectly normal family."

 _Anyone who tells you they come from a good, normal family is lying or delusional._ The words played in Shouhei's head using the voice of his university tutor, complete with a derisive snort. Shouhei shoved it aside as he continued to listen and watch. Subaru had not yet reacted. "It started with strange sounds," Matsugae continued, glancing at his wife who tensely nodded. She sat next to her daughter holding Satoko's hand in a tight grip; for her part, Satoko simply kept smiling. "It was crying, usually in the middle of the night or early hours of the morning when I knew everybody else was asleep. It would come and go, but over time it got louder. Soon we were hearing it at random times during the day. None of us knew where it was coming from. After about three weeks, it suddenly stopped completely. We thought that whatever it had been was over. But then things started breaking.

"Like the crying sounds, it started off small. A chipped window or a fallen vase. Things easily dismissed. Then we started seeing dents in metal pots and deep cracks along the house foundation walls. I had the building inspected, and while the surveyor was standing in my garden saying everything was fine the water main exploded. We had to move out of the house to a temporary apartment while things were fixed, only to realise whatever was doing these things had followed us there. We spoke to doctors, to priests, the former being useless and the latter only marginally less so. The Shinto priest we saw couldn't do anything, but he did tell us who was making such things happen. He told us it was because of Satoko.

"My wife and I demanded to know why, but he couldn't tell us. All throughout these happenings Satoko had been a positive cheerful girl, reassuring us that whatever it was had to have a reasonable explanation and end sometime. After the priest pointed to her, but, she started having ... episodes. Every so often she would suddenly fall completely silent, even in the middle of conversations, and stare blankly with a smile on her face. And when she did that, the strange forces stopped happening at random, and started happening specifically around her, with even more power and chaos we can feel but can't comprehend, as if it were a storm and she its eye. And all throughout she never stops smiling.

"We're terrified. The episodes don't come often and never last more than a minute or so, but the horror and amount of destruction done during that time is immense. When they're over, Satoko remembers nothing and she's just as confused and scared as we are, but she keeps smiling and tries to cheer us up. We've moved apartments half a dozen times in the past two months, and don't dare to go home even though it's now fixed. We've taken Satoko out of school because she poses a threat and students have been whispering. We fear it's only a matter of time before Satoko hurts us or worse, herself. We have nowhere to turn for help except here." Suddenly Matsugae bowed again, so low his forehead almost brushed the tatami. "Please, Sumeragi-sama, please say you can help us!"

The room was silent. Sympathy clamped Shouhei's chest and he looked around to see how his feeling was shared: Takehiko's face was dark, little Eri was frightened but still keeping her place, while Nuriko looked pained. At the front of the room, Lady Sumeragi's mouth was set in a thin line as she studied the now-trembling Satoko. In contrast, Subaru simply continued to sit quietly and look at his distant somewhere. Shouhei saw Lady Sumeragi glance at him and how what she saw made her mouth thin further, before she lifted two fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes. Even though he was not the recipient, Shouhei could feel the force of her focus as it settled on Satoko, piercing and heavy as a spear.

"There is something in your daughter's shadow." Lady Sumeragi said this matter-of-factly, but Matsugae and his wife jumped anyway, staring at the tatami and Satoko's shadow which, to their eyes, was simply a shadow. "It's sleeping at the moment, which makes it difficult to identify, but I can see that fixing your daughter will not be as simple as separating her from a leech or parasite. Whatever this spirit is, it has become part of her."

As Lady Sumeragi spoke, Shouhei noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see. Slipping in through the open veranda screens was a slender figure with short black hair that fell angled and long over a finely featured face: Sumeragi Hokuto, Subaru's twin sister who must have just arrived back from her classes at Kyoto University and presumably already ditched her bodyguard. Unlike the rest of the Sumeragi family who wore traditional clothes or normal everyday wear, Hokuto was aggressively modern in tight black jeans and a loose t-shirt on which was printed the kind of art Shouhei associated with street graffiti. Over the t-shirt Hokuto wore a stylishly feminine black leather jacket matching the heeled boots she had left on the wooden veranda outside. Added to all this was pink lip gloss and large gold earrings that set off the emerald beauty of Hokuto's eyes, which were hard and defensive. They flashed with contempt when they met Shouhei's gaze.

No matter how many times Hokuto gave him that look, Shouhei couldn't get used to it. Now, however, was not the time to deal with his hurt; Hokuto was taking up a place to watch from the far corner of the room unseen to the Matsugaes who had their backs to her, but certainly seen by Lady Sumeragi and Subaru. Not that Subaru reacted, and Lady Sumeragi was too occupied with the Matsugaes to acknowledge her granddaughter. "Because this spirit is melded to your daughter, this problem cannot be fixed without her cooperation," Lady Sumeragi continued. "Unless she is willing to face and confront this spirit, it will remain a part of her until she dies or becomes something else. The former would be far more merciful." There was a sob from Matsugae Ayumi, and Lady Sumeragi fixed her gaze on Satoko's white face. "Come closer, child."

Shaking, Satoko inched her cushion forward until it touched the edge of the dais in front of Lady Sumeragi. Gracefully, Lady Sumeragi leaned in to look into the girl's face making her flinch, and the thing in her shadow rippled uneasily. "Satoko-san. I know you're frightened, but your parents are also very frightened, and they are frightened for _you_. They say that you are a good child and I believe them, but have you done something? Something you have not told them?"

"N-no," Satoko's voice was small and scared, but she kept smiling at Lady Sumeragi. "I'm fine, everything is perfectly fine. I'd never do anything to hurt my parents who just want me to be happy."

"I understand, and it's because they want you to be happy that they have brought you here. You are their child, their precious child and I'm sure that whatever you have done they will forgive you—"

"But I haven't done anything!" Magical senses flared with Satoko's protest, and Shouhei immediately drew out an ofuda as the the girl's shadow began to writhe like a tangle of cut snakes. The other onmyouji reacted just as quickly: Takehiko pulled Eri against his side as he increased his shields, Nuriko flicked a quartet of ofuda around Satoko's parents, and Lady Sumeragi flung a similar kekkai out towards Hokuto—"I haven't done anything, everything's fine, perfectly fine—"

The shadow exploded like rotting fruit or maggot-swollen meat, only these maggots were black and thin all tangled together and each ending with what Shouhei initially thought was a tiny tentacle-filled mouth. They struck out wildly in all directions making kekkais flash under the impact, and soon there were more, smaller flashes as the onmyouji in the room defended themselves. Shouhei sent his ofuda at a dark tendril lashing at his head and blasted it off, only for another to take its place, blindly hurling towards the window along with others where they were immediately stopped by ofuda flung by Nuriko and Lady Sumeragi. Somewhere Satoko’s parents were yelling in terror; they couldn’t see the monster that was their daughter’s shadow but they could certainly see the physical destruction it was causing. Gashes appeared in the tatami matting as if giant claws had run over them, and huge cracks zigzagged like fault lines over the ceiling. With the other Sumeragi busy defending and working to contain the shadow, that momentarily left only Shouhei to do something about Satoko who sat smiling and babbling in the middle of it all— "I'm fine, nothing's wrong, I'm good and everything is perfectly fine—"

Subaru stood. Stepped off the dais gesturing to the grotesque shadow as it whipped out to grab him only to be redirected back into itself, and went to kneel unshielded at Satoko's side. "Satoko-san," he said quietly, "Satoko-san, listen to me. It's all right, there’s no need to pretend now, not here. Here, it's all right for you to cry.

"You're hurting. Something has happened to you that should be wept over, but you can't do that because you don't want people to know about it. So you hide. You bury your hurt deep down inside so you can smile and tell the world nothing happened, and sometimes you even believe that. But no matter how hard you pretend what you've buried is still there, silently hurting and trapped and lashing out—"

"I didn't do anything!" Satoko cried. "I didn't do anything, I didn't go out with him—" Tears had welled up in her eyes now and she grabbed fistfuls of Subaru's kimono begging him to believe, "—I didn't like him, didn't want him to touch me or take me to the doctor to make the baby go away I'm fine I'm happy and good just like 'tou-san wants me to be—"

"Satoko-chan!"

A pair of black tentacles—no, _arms_ , two grotesquely long black arms with an infant's hand on the end—tried to grab Shouhei's legs. Once again Shouhei pulled out an ofuda to protect himself, then, remembering Subaru, quickly switched to twist the shadow-arms around each other before sending them back into the main mass where they stayed. This wasn’t a spirit, this was pain, raw and alive and suffocated for months except for when it bubbled over, and adding to it by fighting back would only make things worse. The realisation was shared by the other onmyouji, who were now also putting away their ofuda in favour of manipulating the flailing black arms back into the outlines of Satoko's shadow. It was quick work which Shouhei first attributed to there being so many Sumeragi onymouji in the room, until he realised that Satoko was weeping uncontrollably against Subaru’s chest. The more she cried, the less power her shadow had. Soon her shadow had been pressed back until its myriad black arms had no more reach than a human arm. They joined together as if returning to normal—and then stretched up. There was only one person it could reach now.

Shouhei felt his breath catch. Calmly, Subaru lifted his gloved hand from Satoko's shoulder and reached out to touch her anguished shadow. There was an indrawn breath from somewhere, Lady Sumeragi perhaps, but Shouhei didn't dare look away as the thirteenth head of the Sumeragi gently pressed his fingers into the dark. Soon his entire hand was enclosed in a black mass that pulsed and breathed, and belatedly Shouhei realised just how bright Subaru's emerald eyes were. Bright, and _alive._

The shadow stilled. Then, without fanfare, it began to fade away leaving Subaru holding a now quieting, still crying Satoko. Their shadows lay together on the ruined floor, sharp and ordinary, and Subaru gently brought his hand back down around Satoko's shaking shoulders. "It's all right now," he murmured. "Everything will be fine from here."

Still on the dais, Lady Sumeragi watched the two of them, not a silver hair out of place and expression relieved. Around them, the other Sumeragi were checking on each other and Satoko's badly shaken parents. As the ugly sounds of Satoko's wails filled the room, Shouhei found himself looking towards Hokuto. She stood unhurt, in fact it looked as if she hadn't even flinched or moved in the chaos, and like Lady Sumeragi, she was also watching Subaru embrace the sobbing girl. She turned when she sensed Shouhei’s attention. Her pink-glossed lips were thin with unhappiness.

Shouhei swallowed, holding his cousin's hard gaze. After a moment Hokuto deliberately looked away, toed one of the ofuda at her feet out of alignment, and walked out of the room with head held high. Still Shouhei felt her green accusation linger, making him prickling and defensive—but he would deal with that later. Right now there was a client's business to wrap up and a room to clean.

The job was done. And Subaru had passed.

 

* * *

 

Family dinner. With the main room in disarray they had gathered in one of the secondary rooms, and the servants were bringing out the dishes. Shouhei was starving but kept quiet about it, while to his left Eri and Eiji were loudly telling the servants to hurry. Kenichi, sitting immediately to Shouhei's left, was trying to shush them without success, and in fact it seemed like he didn’t really want to.

Shouhei could understand that. The children's noise was loud and innocent, and without them the adults would have been left sitting in uncomfortable quiet. Part of it was the aftermath of what they had just witnessed—Satoko's black pain hadn’t been powerful compared to the usual things the Sumeragi dealt with, but it had been upsetting nonetheless. The Matsugaes had left with answers and some healing, but also facing a long road in terms of counselling for Satoko and her shocked parents. If they navigated that road well, they would have no reason to see the Sumeragi again. If they didn’t … at least the Sumeragi would make sure to see them in a more resilient room.

The other part of the uncomfortable quiet was the usual part. Family.

"Where are Subaru-san and Hokuto-san?" Startled, Shouhei blinked up to where Lady Sumeragi sat at the head of the room, her level voice immediately making the children fall quiet. The floor cushion to her right was empty. The cushion to Shouhei's right was also empty. "Shouhei-san, did you call them for dinner?"

"I did, yes." That would have been what, some ten or fifteen minutes ago when he passed their rooms? Subaru's door had been closed but he had answered Shouhei's voice, and Hokuto had glared at him from her room and that counted, right? "They should be on their way."

"Be patient, cousin," Nuriko said to Lady Sumeragi. "They're not the only ones yet to come—look, Hiroshi-san isn't here yet either."

"Hiroshi is assessing the value of repairs needed for the main room," Takehiko explained. Beside him, his wife Hana was gracefully pouring his tea. "Though that doesn’t excuse my second son's tardiness."

Lady Sumeragi ignored this. "Shouhei-san, please go and remind Subaru-san and Hokuto-san that it is impolite for them to make us wait to begin dinner."

"Yes, Sumeragi-sama." 

The rooms for the Sumeragi twins were towards the quiet back of the house along with Lady Sumeragi's. Shouhei too had his room here, albeit for practical reasons rather than family hierarchy, next to Hokuto’s room which in turn was next to Subaru's. Shouhei went to Hokuto's first, steeling himself before lightly tapping the door. "Hokuto-san?" No answer. Shouhei tried again. "Hokuto-san, your grandmother is calling you for—"

There was a muffled sound. Not from Hokuto's room, but from Subaru's. Chilled, Shouhei dashed to Subaru's door and flung it open.

Subaru and Hokuto were crouched facing each other on the floor. No, Hokuto was crouching, and trying to hold onto the half-sprawled Subaru's wrists. Wrists that were dripping with blood from repeated slashes across the backs of Subaru's gloved hands. The culprit, an open pair of hair scissors, was in Subaru’s left. Even as Shouhei watched in horror, Subaru was trying to bring the scissors down on his right hand again only to struggle against Hokuto who was begging him to—"It's all right, Hokuto-chan," Subaru was explaining calmly, "I'm perfectly fine, I nearly have it—"

"Please, Subaru, stop, _stop this_ —"

Instinct took over Shouhei's horror. He dashed to help Hokuto, grabbing Subaru’s right arm as she grabbed his left to wrest the scissors away. Subaru struggled against them like a speared fish, and his calm voice took on a note of desperation. "No, please, Hokuto-chan, Shouhei-san, you don't understand I need to—I'm almost there—"

The scissors went flying. Subaru let out a cry trying to go after it before Hokuto snatched them up. Heart pounding, Shouhei bodily pinned Subaru face-down on the tatami, holding him in place as he reached one hand up to Subaru's head, his tongue already moving with the spell—

A kick to his stomach sent him tumbling onto his side. Agonised, Shouhei looked up to see Hokuto standing over him with eyes like green fire before she spun away, kneeling by her brother to pull him, still struggling, into her arms. He was crying, and Hokuto cradled him close whispering into his ear— _it's all right, shh, just breathe, I'm here—_ as she brought out a small glass bottle of something she sprayed into a handkerchief which she then used to wipe Subaru's face. Subaru immediately began to quiet. With a wheeze, Shouhei began to drag himself towards them.

" _Don't_." Shouhei stopped. Hokuto was staring at him pleadingly as Subaru lay in her lap, his lacerated hands dripping blood. "Don't do it. Can't you see what it does to him?" 

Of course Shouhei could see, he could See much more than Hokuto ever could. "You know it's better that he doesn't remember," he croaked.

"No. You _tell_ me that it's better. You and Obaa-chama." She spat their names out like bones. "And I don't believe you."

"You have to trust us—"

"What's going on?" Sharply, Shouhei and Hokuto looked towards the door. Lady Sumeragi looked down at them taking in the chaos and Subaru in particular, and her face paled. "Again, Shouhei-san?"

Shouhei painfully pulled himself up to kneel in seiza. "I believe so, Sumeragi-sama," he said, fixing his eyes on the floor. Trying not to think about the vicious way Hokuto was looking at him. "I haven't yet gone Within to check, but it does look like the barriers have worn down again."

Silence. Shouhei didn't need to look up to know that Lady Sumeragi's expression was one of despair. Still Hokuto clung to her brother, who was now breathing steadily into the handkerchief. Then he saw Lady Sumeragi's tabi-clad feet go to them and kneel down. "Give him to me," she said to Hokuto.

Hokuto didn't move. Still keeping his eyes on the floor, Shouhei wondered if Hokuto would dare to glare at her grandmother. "Give him to me, Hokuto-san," Lady Sumeragi repeated, frighteningly calm, "or have you reconsidered our discussions? Are you willing to pay the price and go to an art or fashion school?"

He could feel Hokuto's defiance sparking the air like static—but only for a moment. "Thank you," he heard Lady Sumeragi say, and finally he looked up. Subaru was now lying with his head in his grandmother's lap, eyes closed and apparently exhausted. For her part, Hokuto had stood up and was staring at her twin with the handkerchief scrunched in a tight, trembling fist, not that Lady Sumeragi was paying any attention. "That will be all, Hokuto-san."

"I need to—Subaru needs to—"

She shut up when Lady Sumeragi looked at her. "Go eat your dinner, girl."

He wanted to say something to soften the blow. Of course he didn't, and Hokuto eventually fled the room without giving him a second glance. As she passed Shouhei caught a whiff of whatever she had sprayed on the handkerchief. Perfume? Aromatherapy oil?

"Shouhei-san." Respectfully he turned back to Lady Sumeragi. "You need to do it again."

"... Yes, Sumeragi-sama." 

He shuffled across the tatami. Between them Subaru lay quiet, eyes closed and deep within himself, one wounded hand gripped in his grandmother's bony one. The slashes on its back weren't deep, thankfully, but they were messy and many. As if Subaru had been trying to carve into his flesh a shape he couldn't quite remember.

 _It's not right. It's unhealthy. The clan can't have a head so compromised._  The litany Shouhei had crafted for himself pulsed as he placed his hand on Subaru's forehead speaking the words to go Within, keenly aware of how Lady Sumeragi was watching him. Him, the bastard most trusted to protect that which she held most precious, and the future of their family. He began to feel his body grow heavy. _This is for the best._

Subaru's mind opened around him like a maze of mirrors. The mirrors were cracked, some even showing holes through which could be seen glimpsed an endless dark, and in return allowed fragments to trespass. A sharp smile. The smell of smoke like cigarettes or destruction. The taste of blood and skin on skin. For a moment Shouhei thought he heard Hokuto's laughter as she teased _don't you want to see your honey?_ and that made him hesitate. When was the last time he had heard Hokuto laugh?

Something flickered in the darkness beyond. Shouhei froze momentarily terrified before he pulled himself together. _This needs to be done._ Placing his hands over the broken mirrors, Shouhei gently and grimly got down to repairs.

  

**Tokyo, the same evening**

"How was dinner?" 

"Mm, okay. I didn't eat much."

"You should eat more, especially if you only grabbed a snack for lunch."

"Yeah, I know, but I just ... wasn't hungry."

"Didn't you say that when you took me out for cake, and then ended up eating not just your slice but the rest of mine as well?"

"Because I wanted to try the flavour you chose! Mou, you're never going to let me forget that, are you!"

He laughed softly. "It was a good afternoon."

"Yeah." She sounded wistful. "I was so glad you came to visit me. You're the only one who has."

"I'm sure your old classmates—"

"They've moved on. I can't blame them, it's been five years and for all the fun we had together it's hard to keep up a friendship just through sporadic phone calls. I'm sure they remember me fondly."

 _I think of you all the time._ "Maybe I could visit again?"

"That'd be nice. But you have classes, and your family will ask questions, and _my_ family ugh don't get me started. Something happened today that shows how unwell my brother is, but Obaa-chama still thinks what she's doing is for the best and my cousin just goes along with it and never believes me when I say it just makes him suffer more, and they can't _protect_ us like this forever—"

Her voice was cracking, and taking his heart with it. His fingers tightened on the phone. "I wish I could do something to help."

"You are. You're listening." She sniffled. "You're the only one who does nowadays."

"But I wish I could do more. Wave a magic wand and fix everything or even just take you away from there to somewhere outside—"

He broke off. Thought of seagulls and the big wide sea. It made his breath stop. 

"Kakyou? Is something wrong?"

Survival instincts made his lungs start up again. He blinked, disoriented, wondering what had just happened. "I-I'm fine, Hokuto-chan," he said reassuringly. "I just ... never mind, it's nothing."

"That's okay. I should be going now anyway, before someone comes looking. Again. You ... you'll call again soon, right?"

"Of course. And you know you can always call me when you need to talk."

He thought he heard her smile. "Thank you ..."

They said their goodbyes quietly, one after the other, until eventually she was the first to hang up leaving Kakyou with a monotone beeping. It sounded cold, and he hung up the phone feeling even colder not just because of all the things he still hadn't dared to say, but from that moment at the end.

_To the outside ..._

He had never felt such a strong sense of déjà vu before. He wasn't quite sure why ...

A knock on his door and a voice calling him to dinner. With a tiny shudder, Kakyou put down the phone, stood, and made himself walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The Public Security Intelligence Agency (公安調査庁) is the national intelligence agency of Japan.
> 
> -Kita Ikki was a Japanese author and philosopher active in the early 20th century, often associated with the far-right. He is still read in Japanese academic circles today.
> 
> \- Mishima Yukio was a Japanese author, playwright, poet, actor and more, and is generally considered one of the most important Japanese authors of the 20th century ([Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yukio_Mishima)).


	2. Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is it normal to have even the most illogical objects remind you of things best forgotten?"

**November 1996  
Kyoto**

There was something in his house. The neighbour's cat, perhaps, a tabby who, despite her girth, could still squeeze through the kitchen window – except she never came at night when all the food was put away. She also never filled him with such a sense of dread, silent and cold, as if his beloved house was being surrounded by dark floodwater. Nerves on edge, Hiroyoshi Satou put down his book, stiffly rose from his bed, and, taking up the old officer's katana from its shrine, began to make his way downstairs.

Black-and-white photographs watched Hiroyoshi as he tiptoed through the shadows from room to room. Although it was now over five decades since his high school kendo club, Hiroyoshi gripped the katana in what he hoped was an echo of his father, an army colonel posing proudly in the largest photograph with that same katana at his side. His father had never flinched in the face of battle, not even when a Korean bullet ended his life. Even though he was only a scholar with a heart condition, Hiroyoshi told himself he would be the same.

Nothing in the kitchen. Nothing in the living area. Nothing in the hall or storeroom. That left the study. The katana's oiled blade glinted as Hiroyoshi crossed the door. There was a man standing inside.

His first thought was that his ritual had finally succeeded. The man stood dressed in black in the centre of the summoning circle with his back to Hiroyoshi, tall and proud and straight just as Hiroyoshi had always imagined a literary firebrand like Kita Ikki to be. Then he realised that the man was far too solid for a ghost. Angered, Hiroyoshi raised the katana higher. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house!"

The man didn't turn. He seemed to be contemplating the decorations on the far wall: more historical photographs, a scroll declaring the triumph of national spirit in elegant calligraphy, an old rising sun flag with crimson rays bursting out from the off-centre orb. Perhaps he hadn't heard Hiroyoshi, and Hiroyoshi determinedly stepped forward— "I beg your pardon," the man said calmly without moving. "I was thinking of fireworks."

Hiroyoshi blinked. "What?"

"The last time I was in Kyoto, I saw fireworks. The flag's design just reminded me of them." The man turned slightly, and Hiroyoshi saw a strange smile lit moon-white beneath shadowed eyes. "Is it normal to have even the most illogical objects remind you of things best forgotten?"

This wasn't making sense. And the man was still intruding. Hiroyoshi gripped the katana tighter. "Get out."

"Oh, I will. I never wanted to come in the first place." Suddenly, the man's smile turned sharp. "But first—"

He moved too fast, and Hiroyoshi was old and no fighter. Half-forgotten kendo moves from his youth were fumbled; he managed one slash, maybe two which cleaved nothing but air and moonlight as the man dodged into the katana's circle too close for swordplay. A rap on his wrist sent the katana clattering to the floor.

His shout for help was cut off by a blow to his chest.

Agony blinded him. He couldn't breathe – Hiroyoshi tried to scream only his lungs were collapsing and he could feel them catching on jagged points he suddenly realised were his broken ribs. Horrified, he tried to shove the man away, the man whose arm was plunged elbow-deep into his chest and _still pushing_ – a wet, cracking sound from his back and Hiroyoshi choked, his only sound of pain as his heart burst overwhelming senses with blood and bodily fluids and something else, something incongruous and faintly sweet reminding him of hanami picnics with long-dead parents ...

"—farewell, Hiroyoshi Satou-san."

Thoughts and memories flickered like scattering papers. Distantly, Hiroyoshi remembered something he had read once, some obscure myth about a guardian hidden by sakura and destroying those who would threaten the nation's spirit. A myth which had stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight now fading from his eyes. Hiroyoshi realised he was sobbing like a child. "But why? Everything I wrote I thought that ... thought I was ... please, Sakurazukamori, I don't want to ..."

He never finished. The man hadn't been listening anyway.

 

* * *

 

Rain. Not heavy but steady, leaving droplets on Shouhei's glasses between closing the car door and opening the umbrella. It had been difficult to get parking what with the lunch hour traffic, police vehicles, gathering press, and curious bystanders, but eventually Shouhei had managed to catch his contact's attention who directed people to make way and now met him at the police barrier. "You're the Sumeragi?" the man asked.

"Yes – well, not exactly, I'm from there but—"

He broke off as the man – detective, actually, lined and grizzled – impatiently glared from under his own umbrella. "Five seconds before I escort you back across the line, kiddo."

At twenty-nine years of age, it had a long time since anyone had called him 'kiddo'. Shouhei drew himself up. "I'm Kitajima Shouhei. I'm an onmyouji in the personal service of Lady Sumeragi, the twelfth head of the Sumeragi clan. She sent me here in response to your urgent request for assistance."

"What happened to the actual Sumeragi onmyouji we usually work with? Older man, Sumeragi Takeshi?"

"He's away on another assignment." Flashes were starting to be seen from the press cluster, and Shouhei hastily angled his umbrella to block their cameras. "I'm the onmyouji who will be assisting you today, and I'd like to get started if you don't mind, Detective—?"

"Honda. Honda Makoto." He nodded curtly in lieu of a bow. "Come with me."

Nervous, Shouhei trailed in the detective's wake, cleaning his glasses as he was led to the front door where a small group of other officers were busily gathered under the awning. The door was open, the small house probably built before the turn of the century, and there was a line of little red paw-prints leading outside. "Neighbour's cat," Honda explained shortly, swapping his umbrella for two pairs of plastic shoe-covers, one of which he handed to Shouhei. "Apparently it hangs out here a lot, and the neighbour came looking for it which is when she found the body. Put those on or forensics will have your head."

Shouhei did as he was told only to pause as the implication sank in. "Is the body still inside?" he asked, alarmed.

"Yes, and it's not pretty." Honda looked him straight in the eye. "Are you going to be okay with that?"

He thought of ghosts he had seen, the screaming ones ripped from their lives by accident or murder, and whose fatalities showed in their spirit-forms keeping them from moving on. Thought also of the horrors he had seen in his cousin's mind, and how the after first time he had gone Within he had felt dirty and shaken for days. Now, after five years and last night, although Shouhei still felt dirty he was ready to work. "I'll manage."

"Good, because I have some officers who refuse to work this crime-scene until you've taken a look. If you can pick up any clues that can help me find who killed the man, even better." Honda gestured inside with his head. "This way."

He led Shouhei back along the path of the paw-prints through the genkan and past a well-kept living area to what Shouhei guessed was a study. A study that was now a crime scene, and a murder scene at that. Although Shouhei had been involved with murder cases back in Sendai, it was usually later when everything was cleaned up except for a traumatised ghost, and since moving to Kyoto his main duties were assisting Lady Sumeragi with Subaru. A fresh murder scene was something new, and Shouhei made himself go through a breathing exercise to prepare psychologically, just the way he had learned in university, for whatever lay ahead.

It didn't prepare him for carnage.

The red paw-prints began in a pool of blood. A large, irregular pool of blood near the centre of the room, the edges of which stretched from under the far corner desk and bookshelves to a couple of feet from the doorway Shouhei now stood in. The ceiling light was on, replacing the window's grey light with warm yellow, and making the blood glisten darkly where it had soaked into circular etchings in the wooden floor. Four blood-stained ofuda lay on the circle marking compass points, and inside the circle was a katana, the blade still clinging to its shine. Beside it in the middle of the pool was a body covered in a sheet that did nothing to cover the stench, wet and cloying and thick enough that Shouhei could almost taste blood in his mouth— "We've taken our photographs," he heard Honda say distantly, "but forensics wants to get an onmyouji in before they move things. The current theory, given that circle, is that this is a ritualistic human sacrifice murder, and no one wants to go home thinking that they've picked up a curse, or worse. I'm a skeptic myself, but this is Kyoto and not the first time we've asked the Sumeragi for help, so better safe than sorry. Just don't touch anything."

Shouhei had no intention of touching anything; he was already feeling sick just standing in the doorway. "Who was he?"

"Hiroyoshi Satou, an academic over in Kyoto University's political science department. Lives alone, colleagues say he was working from home yesterday, and hosted a dinner for some of his students which ended around ten or so. We're following up on everyone who was at that dinner, but I can't imagine some university kid doing this over a bad mark." Honda glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you okay? You don't need to ask questions or get involved, just take a look and tell me what you see."

 _I've been sent here on behalf of Lady Sumeragi. I am a Sumeragi. Sort of._ Shouhei took in another deep breath he immediately regretted as the death stench filled his nostrils. The sooner he did this the sooner he could leave. "Just ... give me a second."

To his relief, Honda didn't reply and just moved aside. Steeling himself, Shouhei stepped into the room deciding to examine the circle first; that would be relatively easy and wouldn't require him to get too close to the body. The circle was fairly simple, running in two parallel lines between which was written a cramped kanji script, too dense to make sense of although Shouhei spotted 道, 声, and 鬼 for _way_ , _voice_ , and _ghost_. Crouching down with a hand over his nose, he followed the circle around as far as possible without stepping in the blood and examining the four ofuda. They were hard to read with the blood but Shouhei thought he could make out the characters 常世の国 and what looked like a name written large on each ...

"I think this was intended as a summoning circle." He stood up, which gave his nose that much more distance from the bloody floor, to find Honda watching him with interest. "Presuming Hiroyoshi is the one who created it in his study, he was trying to call over a ghost from Tokoyo-no-Kuni, the paradise land of the dead."

"Would it have worked?"

"No, but he probably believed it would have." Now was not the time to get into an explanation on onmyoujitsu and the spirit world, although Shouhei remembered discussing such things with a fascinated friend from university. A university friend he had fallen out of touch with, he realised guiltily. "Also, if Hiroyoshi wanted to talk to a ghost, it doesn't make sense for him to kill himself to try and bring it here."

"So likely not a crazy suicide, which means I'm keeping my original assumption that I'm looking at a murder scene. Can I also keep my original, and to me obvious, assumption that the murderer is human?"

"The circle is useless, it wouldn't have called anything, so yes, a human murderer."

"Good, so the world is still normal on that front. Anything else?"

This was the point Shouhei closed his eyes and brought his hand up in a two-finger focus. Opening his mind and stretching it to sense ... nothing. Violence, yes, and the whisperings of other disturbed spirits nearby, but of the victim himself, nothing, not a hint of spirit or even a scream—

Shouhei's eyes popped open. Felt his stomach knot with cold dread. "How was the man killed?" he demanded.

"Stabbed in the heart. Not sure what by, but it's not the katana, that's too thin, and it belongs to the victim who was probably trying to defend himself. Autopsy should help us figure out the murder weapon."

The cold dread was getting heavier. Shouhei didn't want to ask his next question but his suspicion left him no choice. "Can I take a look at the body?"

For a moment Honda simply looked at him, then, shrugging, leaned out into the corridor calling for a forensics officer. One came immediately, hands and shoes sheathed in plastic, and soon Shouhei was being guided to step into the pool of blood. The floor's polish mean that the blood was still thick and sticky, and Shouhei could feel how it clung to his plastic shoe covers as if trying to keep him from getting closer. With effort he squashed his gag reflex – the last thing he wanted was to vomit over the crime scene. Then he was standing beside the body watching the forensics officer bend to peel back the plastic sheet.

Shouhei swallowed. The dead man, somewhere on the upper end of sixty years, lay on his back with terrified eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He was dressed in a sleeping yukata, the original colour of which was now dyed almost to black, and now Shouhei realised why so much blood had been spilled. In the middle of the man's chest was now a deep, ragged hole perhaps the size of a rice bowl or a grapefruit ... or a fist. A man's fist.

He knew the stories. He knew the warnings, all of them, from Lady Sumeragi. He knew the fragments he had glimpsed in Subaru's mind: a man in brown, even Hokuto, murdered by a smiling man who stabbed a hand through their hearts—

"You okay?"

Shouhei jumped. The forensics officer was looking at him with concern, something shared by Honda still standing by the door. "Y-yeah," Shouhei said. "I just needed to ... check the body – the victim, I mean, I needed to see his face so that I could—" He caught himself. "I don't need to see any more. Can I go now?"

With a nod, the officer replaced the sheet and led the way back to the edge of the pool where another forensics officer had appeared. He made the first officer and Shouhei step out of their bloody shoe covers into fresh ones, but Shouhei couldn't shake the feeling that his skin was crawling, and rushed from the room into the comparative normality of the corridor. "What did you see?" Honda demanded, following.

Shouhei squeezed his eyes shut – _you don't have to be strong, it's perfectly normal to be affected, but you can't let this overwhelm you._ "Nothing. There's no ghost or spirit left. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing in that room for you or your men to worry about."

"I won't pretend I understand what you mean, but that last bit is good to hear. You guys get that?" Honda added, raising his voice and the two forensics officers called back affirmatively. "Anything about whoever did it?" he asked.

 _The assassins who use onmyoujitsu to kill. The centuries-old enemy of our clan. They're incredibly dangerous, they feel nothing, care for nothing—_ "I can't help you there. Whoever did this, if they left any evidence you won't need onmyoujitsu to find it."

"... All right. Thanks." Unexpectedly Shouhei felt a pat on his back and he looked, startled, up at Honda who was looking down with sympathy. "It's never easy seeing this stuff, but if it means anything, good work, you've been a great help. And a word of advice when you get home: don't hide alone too long, go talk to people. Not about the case, that's confidential, about them, how they're going. Reconnect with normal."

Shouhei nodded silently, even managing a wan smile. It was returned, and, with a final pat, Honda turned back to his crime scene leaving Shouhei to make his way out where he exchanged shoe covers for his umbrella. The clean smell of rain immediately made him feel better, but only for a moment. The implications of the butchered man in the study ... heart pounding, Shouhei rushed back to the car, climbed in, and turned the ignition with sweating hands.

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure it was the Sakurazukamori?"

The words were spoken tightly, like metal springs coiled to the limit. It didn't help that today Lady Sumeragi's kimono was grey woven with black, the severity of which was only mildly set off by her gold obi. Shouhei didn't dare move as she paced. "It was a violent murder, and yet there was no traumatised ghost left to haunt that house," he explained, the broken corpse as fresh in his mind as the blood scent he was certain still soiled his clothes. "That means the murderer has to be a practitioner, a powerful practitioner. Add the shattering blow through the heart and it can't be anyone _but_ the Sakurazukamori."

To this Lady Sumeragi could not seem to bring herself to reply. Outside, the rain had grown heavier and she glanced through its grey curtain across the garden to where a handful of figures were gathered in the main room. Takehiko and Nuriko seemed to be talking animatedly alongside Hiroshi; Subaru and Hokuto had their backs to the window. Lady Sumeragi's face was pale as she watched them. "Were the wards checked this morning?" she demanded.

"Yes, by Nuriko-san. She said she observed nothing unusual, and the wards were untouched."

"And Subaru-san?"

"Calm. The blocks Within are fresh, and they stand." There was no need to add the _for now_. "It may be that the Sakurazukamori never came here."

"Or he's biding his time."

"Still? But we've heard nothing of him for five years—"

"We hear nothing about the Sakurazukamori because the Sakurazukamori has allies in high places," Lady Sumeragi cut in with disgust. "The corrupt protect those they find useful, yet another reason why that line of _eta_ has endured for centuries. Count it as pure chance that we were called into this case before it could be swept under the rug. Who else knows of the Sakurazukamori's involvement?"

"No one outside this room. I didn't tell the detective for his safety, and I said nothing to the rest of the family when I returned, certainly not to Subaru-san or Hokuto-san."

"Good. I'll speak to Nuriko-san and Takehiko-san about it and get them to strengthen the wards, and until we can be sure that the Sakurazukamori is no longer in Kyoto, Hokuto-san is not to leave the estate." She glanced at Shouhei. "You disapprove?"

His wince had been too obvious. "Hokuto-san will not be happy."

"She hasn't been happy for a long time." Lady Sumeragi averted her eyes. "But better that than the risk of the Sakurazukamori using her to get to Subaru-san."

"With due respect, Sumeragi-sama, if you restrict Hokuto-san's freedom further she will want to know the reason why." He thought of Hokuto coming home triumphantly carrying bags of clothes to add to her armoury, the only time he saw her with anything resembling simple happiness these days. "It wouldn't take her long to realise that something must have happened with the Sakurazukamori, and from there, either try to investigate herself or possibly let something slip to Subaru-san."

"What would you suggest, then?"

"That other than strengthen the wards, we do nothing. Even though the Sakurazukamori has been in Kyoto, there is no indication that he has tried to approach Subaru-san, and it may be that he came solely for the assassination job. Without anything more, I don't think it's worth disrupting the delicate balance we've achieved with Subaru-san and Hokuto-san."

"Delicate? What we have is not delicate, it's precarious. My granddaughter is unhappy, cannot be trusted, and resents me for doing what I do to keep her safe. My grandson—" The word cracked and caught in her throat. "My grandson is marked for death. Worse, the one who marked him hurt him, took his innocence, and warped his mind to believe what they had was love. Abuse. My grandson has been abused by a predator of the worst kind.

"He lay unconscious for days. Hokuto-san squirmed from every question I asked about what had happened, but I had enough from the hospital to draw some of it from her. I didn't want to believe it, but when Subaru-san woke up _that man_ was the first thing he asked for. And the second. And the third, and more. Even though Hokuto-san and I were both beside him, all Subaru-san could think of was the Sakurazukamori.

"I didn't want to go Within him. You know well that to go Within a person is not just risky but ethically sensitive, and should never be done without consent except in the most dire circumstances. Certainly an onmyouji should never do so with his or her own family, but in this case, with Subaru-san ..." She hesitated, but only momentarily. "There was so much chaos inside him, chaos and pain and obsession burning sharp and bright as stars. All of it focused on _that man_. I couldn't bear to look, but I saw enough. I saw how my grandchildren welcomed him, spent time with him, how Hokuto-san called him friend and how Subaru-san let that man touch and violate him—"

The memory broke off. Shouhei could only watch as Lady Sumeragi placed a hand over her face shoulders trembling. "The worst of it isn't what the Sakurazukamori has done, but that Hokuto-san and Subaru-san _knew_ he was dangerous and didn't just continue regardless, but deliberately hid his existence from me. I trusted my grandchildren, treated them as adults, and they lied to my face. I had never imagined them capable of that. Hokuto-san while wilful was always honourable, and the Subaru-san I knew was so pure and innocent. What happened? Where did I go wrong?"

The doubt Shouhei could never quash rose reluctantly. "If this is, as Subaru-san believes, a second life ..."

"What does that matter? If it is true and the Final Day has been and gone, then we are all alive and Subaru-san has come back incredibly damaged. If it isn't true and just Subaru-san's imagining, then his mental state is even worse than thought. Either way, it changes nothing of the present and our need to protect the future of this clan, from himself as well as the Sakurazukamori." She spat the name out like rotten food. "Remember also that the Sakurazukamori are masters of illusion capable of any depravity. I wouldn't put it past him to plant the belief of an alternate life in Subaru-san's mind so as to to manipulate Subaru-san more easily."

Five years and her fury and agony had only grown. Every glimpse of it frightened Shouhei and he didn't dare challenge her, especially when he himself was so involved. Lady Sumeragi may have been the one to place the initial blocks on Subaru's memories, but Shouhei was the one who had refined and maintained them. Over the years, he had seen so much more in his cousin's mind than Lady Sumeragi ever had, and although Shouhei dutifully told her what he saw he couldn't tell all. Part of it was embarrassment, part of it was wanting to spare Lady Sumeragi further pain, but the rest was his own personal disquiet. He understood Lady Sumeragi's actions to protect his cousin, of course, but the fact that it involved invading Subaru's privacy so deeply was intensely uncomfortable. He compromised as best he could by not actively seeking out Subaru's memories and reporting only the relevant facts, but it didn't change his guilt, both to Subaru and to Lady Sumeragi who otherwise had given him her full confidence. And all that before the questions about Subaru's choice and consent ... "Yes, Sumeragi-sama." What else could he say? "Do you still wish to confine Hokuto-san to the estate for the time being?"

Lady Sumeragi drew herself up. "Yes. But not completely, she may still go to university for classes. I'll tell her myself and spare you some of her fury. You still hope that someday she'll call you 'Shou-kun' again, right?"

Shouhei turned pink. "I-I miss the way things used to be," he said awkwardly.

"Don't we all." She turned away from him again, returning to the window to gaze across to the room opposite. Takehiko, Nuriko and Hiroshi were gone and Hokuto and Subaru appeared to be talking quietly, mirroring shadows with edges blurred by rain. "I would erase the Sakurazukamori from all of history and existence if I could. You may go."

Go Shouhei did, quickly, and with profound relief. He fled to his own room down the hall unbuttoning his shirt, and stripped down to underwear the moment he closed his door. Lady Sumeragi hadn't seemed to notice anything, but Shouhei was convinced that his clothes smelled of blood he was desperate to scrub himself of. A bath would help with that, though it wouldn't cleanse the memory of the scholar's broken body. And to think the man who had committed such violence was the man Subaru claimed to love ... the image came unbidden: a sunny morning, a bed, and two people in the bed teasing and playing over a red tie, play which soon turned to playing with each other—

Years of practice had made Shouhei adept at turning away from such things. He thought of his bedroom back in Sendai, the tiny one in the corner of the apartment, and mentally began to envision everything in it. The window overlooking the park. The potted fern his mother had challenged him to keep alive for a season. His childhood toys collecting dust on the shelf above his books, the titles of which he made himself list one by one. Soon the only memory he was seeing was his own, safe and familiar replacing Subaru's joy at being touched and the light smile of the Sakurazukamori all too willing to comply. The two of them faded steadily behind book spines, but not before prompting one traitorous thought: _I wish Hokuto-san and I could be like that._

The bedroom collapsed. Shouhei's eyes popped open. He was flushed, his skin crawling ... with a shudder Shouhei wrapped himself in his dressing gown, fetched his wash things, and fled to the bathhouse.

 

* * *

 

"How are you feeling?"

His shoulders, slumped from the moment the others left, droop further under the grey kimono. "All right. Just a little tired. Did I do okay with them?"

His eyes are distant. She hates that look, hates how her twin has become someone she barely recognises but is too familiar with these past five years. She hates how he's not lying, because this is now the standard for _all right_. She hates that she hates anything about him. "You did great. You mediated a solution that was acceptable to both, not easy with Oba-san and Oji-san. It's something you can be proud of."

"If you say so," he replies vaguely, and Hokuto's throat clenches because he shouldn't be feeling things because people say so, he should be feeling for himself. Subaru knows it too, or he will once the barriers in his mind wear down again, and when that happens ... "Is Shouhei-san back?"

"I'm not sure." She doesn't want to see their cousin, let alone the way he guiltily watches her as if he regrets what he has to do to Subaru. He doesn't regret, he's become her grandmother's man and supports Lady Sumeragi completely even though she won't write him into the koseki. Hokuto keeps having to remind herself that she no longer feels sorry for him. "It's raining outside, and I haven't heard a car return."

"Oh. I suppose you won't be going for driving practice today, then."

"No. Though I should, I need more practice driving in the rain." She tries to inject some lightness. "When I get my full licence, I'll take us on a trip somewhere. Go to the coast, or even back to Tokyo. You remember Tokyo, right?"

"I'm ... not sure. I forget."

He hasn't forgotten, he just can't remember. Hokuto can't remind him, not unless she wants to be sent away. Sometimes on bad days she thinks it would be worth it, except she knows she would never forgive herself because he's her twin and she's all he has left. _He_ , her actual brother who still exists and struggles behind walls of black glass, not this listless, disconnected shadow. "You'll remember. Someday. Someday you'll remember everything."

"I'd like that." Suddenly he smiles. "You know, I had a dream last night."

She tenses as something flutters in her ribcage. "You did?"

"Yes. The first dream I've had in a long time. It's hard to remember, but it was bright and there was someone with me. A man. I could only clearly see his hands, but they were large and cool. They touched me firmly yet gently, like—"

He breaks off, emerald eyes far away. Bright. The fluttering thing spreads and Hokuto doesn't know if it's hope or fear or excitement or dread, or all of them together. "Like?"

Slowly, Subaru blinks and, for the first time today, meets her eyes. "Like I'm the only thing he sees. Does that make me special?"

Her lips tighten; she has to look away. "I don't know." The thing in her ribcage curls back in on itself like her fingers on her knee _this is your fault, if you hadn't encouraged them_ — "I don't know anything about that kind of love."

Raindrops drum into the silence between them. When Hokuto dares to look at her brother again, she finds him slumping once more with dull and heavy eyes. "It's tiring," he murmurs, "to be awake like this. Can I rest on you, nee-san?"

"Of course." She shuffles backwards, narrow jeans hissing on the tatami, and leans against the window's wall. "Come here."

Like a child he puts his head in her lap and nestles close, eyes shutting in relief. It gives Hokuto the chance to reach into her jacket's inner pocket and take out a miniature glass bottle filled with liquid the colour of cognac. Obaa-chama has strictly forbidden her from telling Subaru anything about the Sakurazukamori that contradicts their official story, but this doesn't require words ... "Sleep, brother-mine," she whispers, delicately placing a drop on each her palms. "I'm here, I'll always be here for you. Just sleep and dream your dream again."

Gently, she caresses his hair, the smell of spice and sandalwood rising between them. Subaru's face immediately relaxes in a way that Hokuto can see spreading through his body like water beneath the kimono. It had taken her hours to find the right scent in the Kyoto Takashimaya's men's section, and even when she had she hadn't been sure. Not until she brought the bottle of cologne home, pricked her finger, and added in a drop of blood whereupon she smiled and cried all at once thinking of well-cut suits, baking cookies, and cold eyes laughing over tea. As for what the scent makes her brother think ...

In her lap Subaru breathes deeply, barely awake, face peaceful. His bandaged hands are limp and heavy, and as Hokuto watches, the fingers of one touch the back of the other tracing a half-remembered shape that makes her heart clench. She knows what lines mark her brother's skin now, knows how and why they're there. What she doesn't know is why he's still alive, or why she's still alive for that matter, when there's a life in which she's dead. She doesn't know why for five years Seishirou, wonderful, awful, impossible Seishirou, has left them both alone.

 _If you ever think that you're alone, you can call me at any time, even the middle of the night._ The memory of Kakyou's voice comes earnestly, as if he had been standing on an empty stage waiting for her to look up. It brings a smile to Hokuto's glossed lips, and for a moment things don't seem so bad. Kakyou is her friend, her connection to the outside world, and even though he's far away, he's always been there for her to speak to. She feels that can tell him everything, at least about herself. Her family and what happened with Subaru and Seishirou, that is a different matter, not just because it's too painful but there's so much which is unbelievable. Betrayal by her best friend who turned out to be a magical assassin, warping of memories, even time travel which may or may not just be the product of a damaged mind ... it's too outlandish, even crazy, and as much as Hokuto likes Kakyou, she's terrified that if he knew the whole story he may stop calling her. Like her other friends in Tokyo.

Outside, the rain is beginning to lighten. Blinking away tears, Hokuto leans back against the wall, pulls her dozing twin closer, and breathes in scent and memory. She hopes Subaru is dreaming.

 

* * *

 

"—and release." On cue, the bright walls disappeared revealing Eri once more, and Nuriko clapped her hands with delight. "Very good, an excellent lesson!"

Standing alongside his grand-aunt on the tea-room's veranda, Shouhei watched Eri straighten up, her face tired but smiling. Beside her, Eiji was flopped on his back scowling at the sky's fading light. "I nearly had it ..." he moaned.

"It's because you're still a baby," Eri said primly. The knees of her sky-blue hakama was wet with the day's earlier rain, as were the two quartets of ofuda lying on the garden's damp moss. "I'm better because I'm older."

"No, it's because you're a pain—"

"Dinner will be ready soon," Shouhei called out, breaking off any squabble, "and I'm sure the two of you are hungry. Go clean up, but don't take too long; you don't want to keep people waiting to eat."

" _Hai._ " Together the two children stood and bowed. "Thank you, senseis."

Shouhei and Nuriko watched them go, the formality of their traditional kimono and hakama undercut by the way Eiji challenged his sister to a foot race. "Young energy," Nuriko remarked, "if only they could give me some of it. Help me up, would you, Shouhei-kun?"

"Of course." Bending down, Shouhei gave the old woman his arm and supported her as she stood straightening her yellow kimono. "Shall I help you back to your rooms?"

"If by help you mean keep me company, then yes."

Obediently Shouhei began to lead his great-aunt across the garden, pausing only to collect the used ofuda. Today's training session had been with calling and maintaining kekkai, something which required a focused mind the children were still practicing to maintain. Eri had been doing rather well by the end of the session, managing to hold her kekkai for a full two minutes, while Eiji was yet to keep his up for more than one. Still, they were young, and spending time with them had helped Shouhei clear his head a bit. That and Nuriko was always good company. "Have you recovered from the case earlier today?" she asked.

"I'm better, but it's going to be a while before I forget it." He hesitated a little. "Did Lady Sumeragi tell you ...?"

"That it may have been the work of the Sakurazukamori? Yes, she did, and that we need to strengthen the wards, and of course, not tell Subaru-san or Hokuto-san. We don't want to scare them, after all." She sighed. "That poor boy – even though it creates its own problems, I do sometimes think that it is better that Subaru-san blocked out any memory of the attack. Imagine, a boy as gentle as Subaru-san having to wake up every day knowing that the man who nearly killed him may reappear at any moment to finish things – he would be terrified."

To this Shouhei guiltily said nothing. The official story told to everyone was that Subaru had been injured on a job at Shinjuku Hospital, and while recovering the Sakurazukamori had cowardly taken the opportunity to try and kill him. Although the Sakurazukamori hadn't succeeded, the trauma done to Subaru had been so much that Subaru had blocked all memory of the Sakurazukamori's attack from his mind, and was still living with the damage today. It was all factually true, just not the whole truth: a damaged clan head was at least treated with pity and respectful caution, but a clan head who had been manipulated and seduced by their enemy, and another man at that, was a very different matter. "Do you need any help with the wards?" Shouhei asked instead.

"Oh no, Takehiko and I will be fine. We may be old, but we're still more than you can contend with, young man!"

"I respectfully defer to my elders," Shouhei said, earning himself a chuckle. "I would also appreciate your teachings – I've always had trouble with long-range projection, if you have the time, would you be able to give me some guidance?"

"But of course! It'll be a pleasure to teach you, and perhaps in return, you can show me something of your abilities with the subtle mind magics? I understand that you have a particular skill for them. Oh, don't look so stunned," she said, laughing up into Shouhei's startled face. "It's common knowledge that you work with our twelfth clan head to help our thirteenth heal his mind, and I, for one, am glad she can rely on you. Did you know that you look a lot like your grandfather?"

Infinitesimally, Shouhei tensed. "I did, actually. My mother had some old photos of him."

"Working with you must make my cousin feel like she's working with him. Although not a lot, since you're utterly different not just in onmyoujitsu talent, but personality. Respectfully deferring to your elders, your grandfather would never have done that." Shouhei couldn't reply; they had reached the main house now, and the shoji screens were glowing in the dusk. Nuriko patted his arm. "Don't worry about what the others whisper. Whatever the koseki says, your oba-san summoned you here like the rest of us which means she considers you family. Just as I do."

Anything that Shouhei could have said to this was stopped as a figure appeared at the top of the steps. "Ah, Kitajima-kun, there you are," said Hiroshi. Like his father Takehiko and older brother Takeshi, Sumeragi Hiroshi wore glasses; unlike them he was an accountant with no onmyoujitsu power beyond latent sensitivity, but that didn't stop him from looking coolly down at Shouhei all the same. "There was a phone-call for you earlier, he left a message."

"Who was it?" asked Shouhei as he helped Nuriko up the steps.

"Unfortunately he didn't give a name, only that he's an old university friend who helped you pass exams. He said that he's in Kyoto for work, thought to look you up, and that if you're free for dinner to meet him at six thirty this evening at the Kyoto Station Hotel in Ameya-cho."

It took a moment for Shouhei to realise his lips were quirking up. "Okay. Thank you, Hiroshi-san." The older man nodded curtly and went back inside. Nuriko had cleared the last step. "Do you think Lady Sumeragi would let me have one of the cars tonight?" Shouhei asked her.

"I don't see why not. Just because Subaru-san never leaves this house doesn't mean you should do the same – go and ask her, I can make the rest of the way myself. When you do, tell her I say you should go out. It's not every day an old friend calls out of the blue."

Go Shouhei did, and found Lady Sumeragi reading in her rooms. "You may take the car," she said once Shouhei had explained his request, "but try to avoid Hokuto-san when you come and go. After being told that she's not allowed to leave the house except for class, it wouldn't be good for her to see you going out to see a friend. Do you know him well?"

"Well enough. Actually, we first met because he was being haunted by a ghost and I offered to help. We became friends afterwards."

"So he knows about your abilities. I hope I don't need to tell you that it would be highly improper for him to know anything else."

"I know." He bowed. "Thank you for your indulgence, Sumeragi-sama."

"I wish you a good evening."

Jacket, shoes, and car-keys later saw Shouhei pointing the old Mercedes towards central Kyoto without encountering Hokuto, or Subaru for that matter. Their bedroom doors had been firmly closed, and as much as Shouhei would have liked to glimpse Hokuto's face, he was glad to get away for a bit. Oh, he had been out earlier already but that had been work, murder, and a family monster – this on the other hand was social. He even found his step springing as he parked the car right on time and entered the hotel, a mid-sized, no-frills affair catering to the budget-conscious work traveller. There weren't many people about which made it that much easier to spot the tall man sitting in the lobby's bar section. Shouhei approached him carefully. "Senpai?"

The man turned with a wide smile. "Hey, Shouhei-kun!" Ishikuro Yoshirou said cheerfully. "Long time no see!"

"You're telling me." Gladly, Shouhei took the seat opposite noting changes in his friend: floppy black hair now closely cropped, a new gym-built sturdiness filling out his suit, but the smile and sharp eyes were the same. "It's been what, nearly five years? What brings you to Kyoto?"

"Work, I'll tell you about it later. Actually, I should be asking what are _you_ doing in Kyoto in the first place, but right now is there anywhere good to eat some meat around here? My treat."

"I can think of a few options ..."

They ended up in a busy yakiniku restaurant that Shouhei remembered, Yoshirou leading their conversation through street observations, health, and the doings of university alumni the whole way. Two years older than Shouhei, Yoshirou had the kind of confident personality that made either friends or enemies, with no in between and probably more of the latter. As a reserved first-year, Shouhei had never imagined he would come into Yoshirou's circle, until one day he had seen a ghost try to drop a tree branch on Yoshirou's head. Any qualms about revealing his abilities to a fellow student had been easily outweighed by the need to help, and were in fact put to rest when Yoshirou reacted not with fright or reverence, but curiosity balanced with respect and a willingness to understand. From that beginning, it had been easy to connect over their shared psychology studies, single-parent families, and determination to make their own way, and for all that their friendship was one of opposites, Shouhei remembered their years at Tohoku University with a nostalgia that made him all the more guilty about falling out of touch. "Pfft, don't worry about it," Yoshirou said dismissing Shouhei's apologies. "Life happens, I wasn't any better at keeping in contact, the important thing is that now that we are catching up we do it properly and without any weirdness. What are you having?"

"Ah ..." Shouhei scanned the menu's price list. "I won't need much—"

"If you're trying to be polite because I'm paying, don't, this is a special occasion. Hey, waiter! Banquet dinner for two with the deluxe beef, please!"

Shouhei tried not to look awkward as the waiter bowed and hurried off. The cost of the deluxe two-person banquet was not inconsiderable and if Shouhei remembered correctly ... "Are you still with the Tokyo MPD, senpai?"

"Hm? Oh yes, still there, Internal Review digging out corruption and all. Can't talk about it much which I'm sure you understand, though it is the reason why I'm in Kyoto." Yoshirou's brown eyes glinted. "Actually, it's also the reason I managed to find you."

"What do you mean?"

"The Hiroyoshi murder. It's connected to something I'm working on back in Tokyo, so I called up the detective in charge to have a chat. He mentioned getting in an onmyouji, and imagine my surprise when I found out it was you!"

"Ahaha ..." Shouhei tried to look embarrassed. "Well, you see—"

"And you're working with the Sumeragi clan! That must be a big deal in your world, being in with the country's pre-eminent onmyouji. How long have you been working for them? What did you mother say about you moving to Kyoto?"

It seemed as if they were back sitting across a study desk with Yoshirou firing off practice exam questions without giving Shouhei any time to think. "Over four years now. 'Kaa-san was okay with it, she knows who the Sumeragi are and agreed that it would be a great opportunity." He spoke carefully; of all the things Shouhei had told Yoshirou about onmyoujitsu, the bastard connection to the Sumeragi wasn't one of them. What was it his mother had said? _Family laundry should never be aired in public. If I moved with you to that huge old house it wouldn't be a week before the whole country heard me shouting. You at least have visited there since young and Oba-san needs your help – who knows, in time you could even be the one to reconcile us._ "I call her and visit now and again, but after living in Kyoto I'm not sure if I could go back to Sendai, same as you going from Kanazawa to Tokyo."

"Except that while you get along with your mother, I haven't called my father in years," Yoshirou said dryly. The waiter reappeared with cups and a pot of green tea which Yoshirou immediately poured out for them. "Certainly I don't go back and visit. So what's it like working for the Sumeragi? They're a whole clan of onmyouji, right, what do they need you for?"

He knew better than to ask more about Yoshirou's father. He also knew better than to talk about Subaru. "It's true that almost everyone in the Sumeragi clan is an onmyouji, but it's a small family, and they have to oversee the spiritual matters of an entire country, so it doesn't hurt to get some extra help. I assist their clan head manage things, essentially."

"So like that woman, Dean Morishita's secretary, remember how she practically controlled the keys to the campus? If your position is anything like that then it's pretty important. Good on you, kohai – now you just need to marry into the family and you're set for life!"

The joke made Shouhei flush and change the subject. "It's not that important. You're the one out there bringing criminals to justice."

"Yes, but I'm just one public servant among thousands, you on the other hand, are now part of a unique family with a name and tradition stretching back centuries. That's something Special – ah, food!" Small dishes were rapidly appearing in front of them: daikon soaked in vinegar, soup, rice with pickled sesame leaves, and more. Yoshirou dived in without even saying the usual _itadakimasu_ which Shouhei murmured to himself. "Sorry," Yoshirou said with a wink, "it's been a long day, and I am starving."

"What time did you arrive?"

"4:28 this afternoon, and I leave after lunch tomorrow. If I can grab Detective Honda early I can speak to him before inspecting the body – actually, that's something maybe you can help me with. Where's the morgue in this city?"

A black pool of blood, a hollowed-out chest— "I-I don't know," Shouhei confessed, averting eyes to his food. "I deal with spirits, not the bodies left behind."

"But you saw the body today, right? At the crime scene?"

The stench of death flooded his nose. Shouhei realised that the waiter was now putting down a plate of meat, red and raw and wet. Suddenly, he didn't feel hungry. "Yes. And it's one of those things I wish I could erase from my memory."

Yoshirou lifted an eyebrow. "That bad, huh? Guess it's a bit different to a run-over cat, remember when you did that in your car?" He put on a grin to which Shouhei simply gave a reproachful glare. The grin faded. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up. Though you never know, one day you could just scrub bad stuff from your memory entirely – I read there some American universities researching exactly that, and experiment results have shown that erasing memories can definitely be done."

"Really?"

"It's been done on lab mice at least. Still a very long way from creating any kind of drug for it, which is great for me otherwise my work would be even more difficult. What else did you see at the crime scene, any ghosts?"

The waiter was now bringing over a pot of glowing charcoal, the pieces of which he placed one by one into the table's circular ceramic grill. They made the air between Shouhei and Yoshirou ripple uneasily. "There actually wasn't a ghost left," Shouhei said reluctantly – should he be telling Yoshirou this? Then again, Yoshirou did work with the police, and had mentioned that the Hiroyoshi murder was connected to a case of his. And hadn't he also said he investigated corruption?

"A man gets his heart ripped out but doesn't leave behind a screaming ghost." Yoshirou's eyebrow lifted as he put meat on the grill. "That's pretty unusual, right? Does that mean another onmyouji was involved?"

 _We hear nothing about the Sakurazukamori because the Sakurazukamori has allies in high places. The corrupt protect those they find useful._ Looking across the sizzling beef between them, Shouhei thought about Lady Sumeragi's anger and despair, the damage done to Subaru, and the dead man stabbed through the heart. Thought also of Hokuto potentially killed the same way – and then inspiration struck. "It's possible, yes. As you know, there are unscrupulous onmyouji around who think nothing of selling their skills to those who seek to do mischief, or worse."

"That I do. Are you thinking of a particular onmyouji?"

There was a sharpness to Yoshirou's gaze now. Shouhei found himself returning it. "I'm thinking of a particular story in onmyoujitsu lore, at least."

"Oh? Do tell."

"When Abe no Seimei passed away, he left no child but his disciples who had to decide which of them would take his place. Abe no Seimei, you remember, was the greatest onmyouji of the Heian era, advising the Emperor himself, and each disciple vied to be his successor at court." The words came easily to Shouhei, falling into rhythm like proud, parading soldiers; this was a story of his heritage after all. "There were contests of divination, of summoning and demon-quelling that went on for the thirty nights and days. In the end, only two disciples were left. One was a son of the Fujiwara, the powerful noble clan whose daughters married emperors. The other was a commoner, with no name of record, but arguably the most powerful onmyouji of all the disciples.

"The two disciples appeared before Emperor Ichijo and asked him to judge their worth. Both had already proven their talent in onmyoujitsu beyond any doubt, so they presented their cases as to their character. The son of Fujiwara was a refined man, cultured and clever not just at onmyoujitsu but literature and philosophy, and as a Fujiwara he was related to the Emperor by blood and marriage. The other disciple had learned much of noble culture in his time with Abe no Seimei, but his strengths were those he had brought with him: intelligence, boldness, and pride. The Emperor judged them equal but different, and afterwards sent them each a different message. To the son of Fujiwara, the Emperor said that he had chosen the commoner. To the commoner, he said that he had chosen the son of Fujiwara.

"When the son of Fujiwara was told he had not succeeded, he wept but afterwards bowed deeply to the Emperor thanking him for his consideration. When the commoner was told he had not succeeded, he flew into a rage calling a spirit wind that howled and shredded the blooming cherry blossoms attacking the Emperor himself. Only the combined efforts of the court guards, other disciples, and the son of Fujiwara managed to stop and restrain him. Then the Emperor spoke to them together. 'The message you each received was a final test,' he said, 'and your reactions have spoken more than words could ever say about your characters. I now declare my decision. The message appointing the son of Fujiwara as first onmyouji of the court and state is true. The message appointing the commoner is void, and, for the harm you have attempted to inflict on me, I sentence you to death.'

"The court heard this and revered the Emperor's wisdom, however the execution was never carried out. Upon hearing the Emperor's judgment, the commoner turned pale and used his powers to escape crying his despair to the skies. Despite all efforts, he was never seen again, but in the years afterwards stories began to appear of a powerful onmyouji who sold his skills to anyone willing to pay. Over time, the stories grew and said that the onmyouji had corrupted the spiritual arts, that he could summon a wind of flowers that could steal souls, and demons to tear out a man's heart. An assassin using onmyoujitsu to kill."

Shouhei had to pause there; his throat was dry. Across the table, Yoshirou, smart, confident, senpai Yoshirou, was staring in wonder and a little of something else. Envy. The pride Shouhei had felt during his telling faltered slightly. "Are you saying this assassin onmyouji, or at least someone with his powers today, could be connected to the Hiroyoshi murder?" Yoshirou asked at last.

"It's something I suspect." Shouhei decided against telling Yoshirou the story's footnote, namely that the Fujiwara onmyouji and his descendants went on to earn renown of their own, and a century or so later were bestowed with a new name: Sumeragi. "Though I haven't said anything to Detective Honda – he's a skeptic and if my suspicion is correct, the person who committed the murder is dangerous and wouldn't hesitate to kill a policeman."

"So I should be careful, huh." Yoshirou grinned. "Don't worry, I will. Unlike normal people, I actually have an idea of what onmyoujitsu is capable of, thanks to you, and I can call on the resources of various security forces if need be. Does this assassin onmyouji have a name or anything I can dig into?"

"He was named for the flowers he attacked the Emperor with: Sakurazukamori."

"Sakurazukamori. Right." The wide grin was back on Yoshirou's face. "That is helpful. Thanks, kohai, I'll look into it. Oops," he added as a lick of flame lashed up from the grill, "looks like the beef is done. Let's turn our talking into eating, shall we? Dig in!"

"Absolutely." Appetite back, Shouhei began to serve himself, all in all feeling rather pleased. Catch-up with an old friend, good food, and perhaps, just maybe, a step on the path towards justice. He would have to tell Lady Sumeragi, of course, but he was sure she would see things his way, especially when he explained Yoshirou's anti-corruption role. And hadn't she said that she would erase the Sakurazukamori from existence if she could?

Erase. Erase. From all of history and existence ...

Pain on his tongue as the grilled beef burned him. Shouhei winced, but made it look like a smile for Yoshirou as he swallowed. Another idea had just struck.

 

* * *

 

It was the last straw. Confined to the estate except for classes, what the hell for? Bad enough that Subaru was trapped in a shell of his former self, bad enough that when she did go out she had to be accompanied by a keeper ( _"he's a bodyguard, Hokuto-san, for your own protection" "the only thing he's protecting me from is making any friends"_ ), bad enough that she couldn't leave Kyoto and had to study something she hated, now Hokuto was losing one of the few freedoms she had left. And for what? The only trouble she had gotten into recently was for snapping at Takehiko oji-san when he said that she should now be coddling a husband instead of her twin, which Hokuto felt perfectly justified about. Other than that, Hokuto could see no reason for her to be suddenly punished by Obaa-chama in this way.

Hokuto was going to demand one. With Subaru asleep and unable to hear any shouting, now was the perfect time to do so. Exchanging tears for courage, Hokuto made her way to her grandmother's room.

Light from the garden lanterns was enough to navigate the hall's shadows. At the end of the hall the sliding doors to Lady Sumeragi's room were closed, though glowing hairline gaps in the walls indicated that she was still awake. Although well-maintained, the Sumeragi house was of an age where some of its wood had developed individual looks and personalities which Hokuto knew well, from squeaks on the floor to places to peek inside rooms. The joinery of Lady Sumeragi's door was one such place, and Hokuto knelt down to look and see. She would only knock if her grandmother was alone.

Her grandmother was not alone. She sat on the floor facing someone with their back towards Hokuto, who Hokuto immediately recognised as Shouhei. He was wearing his good black jacket as if he had just been out for drinks or dinner, a thought which made Hokuto burn resentfully, and he was explaining something that Lady Sumeragi seemed very interested in. "—need to do a lot more investigation, but the fact that it's possible means—"

"—there would be no need for the blocks," Lady Sumeragi finished thoughtfully. "And if Subaru-san no longer has those memories at all, perhaps he can finally forget and be rid of that man."

"Exactly. As onmyouji we don't have to wait for scientists to create drugs or treatments. With careful preparation, it should be possible for us to go Within and specifically erase the Sakurazukamori, and only the Sakurazukamori—"

The blood drained from Hokuto's face. Without thinking, she flung the door open and stormed in. "How dare you," she spat at her grandmother and cousin's shocked faces. " _How dare you._ "

Shouhei scrambled to his feet to stop her. "Hokuto-san, wait, it's not what you think—"

"Not what I think? Blocking isn't enough, you want to go into Subaru's mind and _remove_ his memories—"

"Only to make him better—"

" _You'll destroy him!_ " The shout stabbed through the air, she was going to wake the whole house but that didn't matter, she couldn't let them— "Those memories and experiences are what make Subaru Subaru, for better _and_ for worse, you can't just scrub them out and pretend they never happened—"

"Pretend?" Lady Sumeragi's deathly quiet voice made Hokuto freeze in Shouhei's arms. "For five years I've been trying to pretend, but I can't. Because every time I look at you I see someone who has betrayed my trust. You, my own granddaughter."

Her stomach lurched. "Obaa-chama, please, if you do this to Subaru—"

"Not only did you betray my trust, you also betrayed your brother's. Subaru-san looked up to you, would do anything you say, and you encouraged him to give his heart to an older man you admit you had misgivings about. Because of you, the already dire situation of Subaru-san being targeted by the Sakurazukamori turned into a catastrophe." Lady Sumeragi's tone never rippled or rose, not even when Hokuto's eyes blurred with tears. "Disagree with my methods if you must, but I have kept Subaru-san from throwing his life away as a result of your demented match-making. You, on the other hand, have no credit to argue about what is in your brother's best interests. Now go back to bed."

Whatever further pleas Hokuto had stuck in her throat as sobs. She couldn't have gotten them out anyway, as Shouhei quickly bundled her backwards through the door and out into the hall, sliding Lady Sumeragi's doors firmly closed. Outrage quickly loosened her voice. "What are you doing!" she shouted.

Shouhei winced, but kept his hold on her arm. "Please, Hokuto-san, let me explain—"

"Explain what? That there's nothing wrong with digging into my brother's mind and scrubbing bits of him out? That you—"

"Just listen!" He stood so close, bending his head to her even as Hokuto gave him the full force of her glare, which, even blurred with tears, she knew was intimidating. "Right now erasing Subaru-san's memories just an idea, I would have to do a lot of research and planning, and if we do go ahead I promise it would only be with the greatest of care—"

"You shouldn't be doing it at all! You shouldn't even be _in_ my brother's head to begin with—"

"We're trying to help him—"

" _We?_ " Hokuto nearly screamed the word. "There is no 'we' in this, it's just you and Obaa-chama and neither of you listen to me—"

She broke off as Shouhei's hand moved up her arm to grip her shoulder, hot and heavy through her jacket. It was matched on her other shoulder by his other hand, and then Shouhei was leaning down so that his brown eyes were level with hers. " _I_ listen," he said, low and earnest into her rigid face. "You're upset, I know, and it's not easy to see your twin so damaged or to live here under your grandmother's watch, but believe me when I say we're all trying to help. _I_ want to help."

Somehow Hokuto managed to keep herself from slapping him. "If you're so good at listening," she hissed venomously, "then listen and answer me this: do you ever squirm when you fiddle with Subaru's memories? Don't say blocking or erasing is better, do you think there's really nothing wrong with messing around in his mind?"

She knew immediately that she had him. His hands tightened on her shoulders, and his gaze flinched briefly down to his left. "It needs to be done. And it will make things better in the long run."

"That wasn't listening." Hokuto pushed his hands away with a sneer. "And you're a terrible liar."

She turned to leave, though not before noting how Shouhei's expression hardened. "We have to do _something_ ," he said defensively. "These last five years, it's been limbo not just for Subaru-san, but you and me and Lady Sumeragi. We can't keep going on like this, something has to change for our lives to move on—"

"Then change yourself! Or just go back to Sendai – you at least have the option of leaving." She paused and glanced over her shoulder to let Shouhei see her scorn. "You know, there was a time when I hoped that Obaa-chama would officially recognise you as family. Now I'm glad she hasn't, _Kitajima-san._ "

Hurt flashed over her cousin's face like lightning, and for a heartbeat Hokuto found herself regretting that last barb. Hastily, she began to storm away. "Where are you going?" Shouhei demanded.

 _Outside. Tokyo. Anywhere but here._ "The dojo. Since I can't go anywhere else. Unless you want to be a punching bag, don't come after me."

She turned the far corner and kept walking, wiping eyes dry and keeping ears alert in case Shouhei did foolishly follow. The house was dark, the rest of the family preparing for bed if they weren't already in them, and even the servants had left for the night. Most of them; there were a handful who lived on the Sumeragi estate in the servants wing, and of course there were the ever-present private security guards at the gates. As if ordinary men would be any use against the Sakurazukamori. _Sei-chan._ Hokuto walked faster.

The dojo was next to the bathhouse. Hokuto bypassed it entirely, heading instead for the small family library. Here the house was even darker, with shelves of scrolls and books forming a shadowy maze Hokuto could navigate with ease. There she found the phone, a modern, plastic thing sitting on a table in an open space fenced by four ofuda keyed to react if a spiritual attack was sensed. Hokuto stepped over them, picked up the phone, and dialed the number her shaking fingers had long memorised. It rang for a very long time as she tried not to cry. Then,

"Hello?"

Hokuto broke into a tearful smile. "Hey, Kakyou, it's me," she whispered, and the words cracked like the remnants of her control. "I know it's really late, but you said if I ever needed to talk ..."

  
**Arakawa, Tokyo**

Unsteadily, Kakyou put down the phone. It was – heavens, 1:47 a.m., which meant he and Hokuto had been on the phone for nearly two hours. He was barely beginning to grasp what about. The Sumeragi being an onmyouji family he had known, but the things Hokuto had said about mind spells and a beloved enemy and memories—

A thin siren whined through his apartment before whisking itself away. In the snapshot of the window, Tokyo was glowing from the softer street lights outside to bridges that crossed the Sumida River not far away. Always during their calls Hokuto would ask Kakyou to describe what Tokyo was like that day, not just the light and weather, but the mood on the streets and the people he had seen. Kakyou didn't think he was any good at such descriptions, but doing them had made him more observant and he now found himself wondering about people he passed, what they did, their hopes and their dreams. Seeing his city in a different way, all because of Hokuto.

Kakyou desperately wished that he could help her. Actually help, not simply by listening which he probably hadn't even done well at this time. With him half-asleep and Hokuto half-hysterical, just keeping up with everything Hokuto had been saying had been like treading water in angry seas. Something about her best friend Sei-chan, who was also her brother Subaru's lover back in Tokyo, betraying them both only it wasn't that simple because although Sei-chan was actually her family's ancient enemy and should have killed them he never did so. The real reasons why Hokuto had moved to Kyoto so suddenly, why her life there was so difficult, and the extreme lengths her grandmother took together with her bastard cousin Shouhei's help to make Subaru forget Sei-chan, only what they were doing wasn't working, and Subaru was hurting himself trying to remember so her grandmother was planning more extreme lengths – it was insane, it was frightening—

_"My brother believes that there's another life where Sei-chan killed me. Me, stabbed straight through the heart by my best friend. Later the world ended and everyone died." A high-pitched laugh cracked in his ear. "Actually that bit might not be so bad to erase."_

—it was twisted and complicated and way too much for him to handle. Kakyou wouldn't be able to help Hokuto, just trying to make sense of her predicament was making his head hurt, which made him feel even more pathetic and useless to her—

 _Remember to pause._ His doctor's no-nonsense voice was admonishing. _Your tendency for depression makes problems feel worse, but you can do some basic things to mitigate it. Take a deep breath. Go outside. Exercise. A good night's sleep. If you take care of yourself you'll then be better at taking care of everything else._  
  
Kakyou squeezed his eyes shut. Breathe in, count to five, breathe out, count to five, repeat. Bit by bit the tension in his shoulders dissipated and his head stopped pounding. When he opened his eyes again it was 1:58 a.m. No one was going to be doing anything at this hour, not him, nor Hokuto for that matter. Better to wait for morning and face things in the light of day. With a painful yawn, Kakyou dragged himself back to bed.

Breathe in, count to five, breathe out, count to five. Repeat. Repeat. 2:05 a.m. Kakyou slept.

He stood, lonely, on a rocky shoreline by an ocean wide and blue enough to hurt his eyes. There were white birds soaring above and with him was a girl – Hokuto – with silver bells in her laughter as she beckoned him out to the sky in which hung the moon, impossibly large and looming like the death he knew was coming for her but could do nothing about, for she walked to it willingly, offering her life in exchange for her brother's, to the man beneath the cherry tree she had once called friend. The man took it with a smile beneath his mismatched eyes.

A scream. Kakyou thought it was his own, but then he turned and saw a boy pinned down by shards of glass, lungs filling with horror, and when Kakyou looked back the cherry tree had become an iron cross, the man with mismatched eyes a cruel boy wielding a sword, and Hokuto's broken body a girl with golden hair tumbling over the wires that bound her to the cross. The girl would also die, yet somehow Kakyou knew she was dead already at the bottom of her grieving heart where she could sense Kakyou's own sadness and embraced him with a message to pass to those she loved and fought over the fate of the earth now fracturing in the dark below Kakyou's feet. Over and over again Kakyou watched it shatter, piling death upon death none of which he could stop, not for the Kamui, not for the dreaming sisters, nor for any of the Dragons of Heaven and Earth whose dreams, like that of the people of Tokyo they were drawn from, were all open to Kakyou from his prison of a body which had never known sunlight or snowflakes or grass underfoot and wished only for death that finally came to his bed at the end of the world—

_Move. MOVE!_

—he wrenched himself up limbs ripping free of tubes and wires as the world crashed down—

 _I wish that everyone could have been happy._  
  
—and woke up screaming.

  
**Shinjuku, Tokyo**

His name was Junichi, but when dressed like this he simply called himself Jun. Unlike Junichi the nice, young, reliable old folk's nurse, Jun was a firework, a heartbreaker, and an escape from Junichi's life. Provoking. Blinking a couple of times to settle the contact lenses, Jun fixed his eyeliner, winked at his new reflection, grabbed shoes and jacket, and headed out.

He attracted looks on the train, but not the kind he was on the alert for. Still, the sideways glances at his slender height, mesh shirt peeking through his jacket, tight low jeans, and now-green eyes accented with kohl as black as his short hair, made him grin and stand all the straighter on the train before he got off at his stop with a swagger in his hips. Tonight would be a lucky night, he was sure of it.

The neon lights of Kabuki-cho enclosed him in their glow and welcomed him in.

The first bar he went to was his usual where the mama-san knew him well. She – for the keenest of eyes would be hard-pressed to find the man beneath the kimono – welcomed him warmly with a cigarette and made up his usual drink. He lit up asking about her day and the evening's crowd, she inquired about his ex making Jun laugh and ask which one before sharing jokes and gossip. When his cigarette and drink were finished, he updated his tab and received the mama-san's well wishes for a successful night. Loosened up, Jun headed east into 2-chome.

His second stop was a slightly larger bar, lit with flickering candles that turned the vintage film photos on the wall into silent film clips, and catering to pretty boys and men with a taste for them. Already known to the manager, Jun was soon settled on a stool at the bar with a glass of mixed spirits, eyes roving and posture invitingly loose. He had to block a couple of passes from plainer men, but after a while struck up a flirtation with a salaryman, probably married, with a preference for whisky and who said he was an investment banker. He was handsome enough and more than happy to spoil and flatter Jun, albeit awkwardly, which Jun approved of and rewarded by putting his hand on the older man's thigh. Even in the candlelight Jun could see how the man's eyes lit up, and he was about to slide his hand higher when the door opened and in walked Kenji-san. Jun saw Kenji-san, Kenji-san saw Jun, and a few shouts and spilled drinks later Jun was running out and down the street pretending not to hear Kenji-san's pleas to stop and talk. And things had been going so well with that banker ... oh well. There was plenty more fish in the sea, and Jun was an expert fisherman. He headed for a club.

The doorman stamped his wrist and let him skip the line. As was usual for a Friday night the music was deafening, the the lights blinding, and the dance floor sweating. Jun left his jacket at the door and quickly downed the cover charge cocktail before inserting himself into the pulsating mass of men. Bass pounded with the alcohol through his blood, his head, hips and legs – with conversation impossible communication here was of a different sort, one Jun was fluent in, and he had soon reeled in a big, muscular foreigner who needed only a quirk of Jun's lips to grab him by the waist and pull him close. Jun met his gaze in challenge, daring him to go further, and gasped in triumph when the man thrust a knee between his thighs as they ground together. His luck was back and he hadn't even left the dance floor – suddenly there was a shout in his ear and a grinning blond face stinking of beer shoved itself between Jun and his panting dance partner. Its owner slung a heavy arm over both Jun and his dance partner's shoulders yelling something in English mixed with broken Japanese about dude look at you score this Jap guy is _honto kawaii_ oh my god this club is _kakkoi_ Tokyo is _sugoi_ until Jun angrily shoved him off and stormed away. When he looked back, his former dance partner and the drunken blond had begun making out. Frustrated, Jun left the dance floor heading out in search of air and a smoke.

Sweat cooled on his skin as the breeze calmed his temper. Here on the street which delineated 2-chome from Kabuki-cho, the foot traffic was steady but distracted, and Jun's attempts to ask around for a cigarette went nowhere. So much for his luck tonight – thoroughly fed up, he was about to head back into the club for a second round, when he saw a lighter flare a few metres away. Boldly, Jun sauntered up to its owner. "Hey there," he greeted. "Sorry to bother, but would you be able to spare a cigarette?"

The lighter's owner glanced down at him. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered beneath a black coat and suit that fit his confident figure like a glove, and the glow of his cigarette outlined an attractive jawline. Jun subtly adjusted his stance into a pose. "Of course," the man said, and oh that was a nice voice, like wine and smoke and cello wood and yes drinking made Jun think funny things. "Here."

Long fingers brought out a box – Mild Sevens – and tapped out a single cigarette. Jun accepted with a winsome smile and placed the cigarette between his lips. Then he leaned in and up to the man's face, one brow lifted in inquiry. His eyes were only slightly reddened by the alcohol and green contact lenses. The man looked into them with eyes like cool honey.

"Wanna light me up?" Jun asked.

The man gazed at him for a held breath before smiling. A strange smile that made Jun shiver with what he thought was anticipation. "Why not."

Leaning down, the man pressed the glowing tip of his cigarette to Jun's unlit one. The wings of his black coat fell around Jun, and Jun stretched out a hand to touch.

Hours later, Jun jerks awake alone in a familiar love hotel bed with a feeling that is very unfamiliar. He's been fucked, thoroughly as he had wanted and then some, yet instead of loose and pleasured he's shaken and disturbed. Stone-cold sober he remembers fragments: strong hands, harsh kisses, the wine and smoke voice turned and acrid denying him control and even speech. Himself choking, pinned down unable to plead around the fingers in his mouth as he was dominated from behind. Cold eyes that never saw him, and a scent that made him remember being beaten behind classrooms by fellow students. He had bled then, profusely – lifting the bedsheets, Jun almost sobs with relief to find them unstained by red.

A chain of bruises wraps around his body from the necklace circling his throat.

His eyes sting. Swallowing thickly, Jun rubs at them sliding out green contact lenses that now feel stiff and gritty. He drops them on the floor where his clothes are scattered, and he forces himself to quickly dress and regain some kind of shield before he steps outside, or worse, the man in black reappears. There's no sign of him in the room, an impoliteness that Jun would have judged any other man for but here is a profound relief. A rough one-night stand is nothing new, but the thought of another encounter with that man's emptiness, the castaway's thirst that even after draining Jun had not been sated ... furtively, Jun flees from the love hotel and Kabuki-cho back to Junichi's life where he feels lucky to be alive. In Tokyo's east, a man sleeps uneasily surrounded by whispering flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- _Eta_ (穢多, "an abundance of filth") is feudal-era term for the burakumin, the outcaste class of pre-Meiji Japan which was mainly comprised of those in the "impure" occupations associated with death such as undertakers, executioners, butchers. Although the caste system was abolished by the Meiji restoration, those with burakumin lineage still face social discrimination in Japan today ([Wikipedia](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burakumin)).
> 
> \- The cologne Hokuto is using and which first appeared in the baking scene in the previous arc is called Aramis JHL, which was launched 1982 ([more info](http://www.basenotes.net/ID26120869.html)).
> 
> \- Abe no Seimei was the famous onmyouji of the Heian period and many of his exploits are legendary in Japanese folklore ([Wikipedia](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abe_no_Seimei)).
> 
> \- The placement of the Sumeragi House phone between four ofuda refers to Call A and B of the Tokyo Babylon manga, where the Dial Q2 line was used to send spiritual attacks because as Subaru explains, a phone call joins the caller and the receiver's spiritual spaces.
> 
> \- Kabuki-cho and 2-chome are areas in Shinjuku. Kabuki-cho is the famous red-light entertainment district of Tokyo filled with restaurants, clubs, host and hostess bars, love hotels, and more ([Wikipedia](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kabukich%C5%8D,_Tokyo)). 2-chome is Tokyo's gay district where as well as clubs one can find bars catering to specific scenes and tastes ([Wikipedia](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shinjuku_Ni-ch%C5%8Dme)).


	3. Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who were you then, and who are you now?"

**November 1996  
Arakawa, Tokyo**

Kakyou was a mess. Three nights without sleeping, more since he had gone outside, and his fridge was running out of decent food. He couldn't face opening the curtains to see a Tokyo he knew should be rubble, and while endless coffee and television was one way to keep awake, it was sending him mad with caffeine and banality. Kakyou welcomed it. Anything but remembering his previous life and the end of the world.

Dreamgazer. Dragon of Earth. Tokyo in ruins, the world flooded or desolated, the Shinken and the Kamui and Kotori—

 

— _the girl bound to the cross, the girl who sensed his pain for the one he had loved and failed to save, the girl whose bloody death would mark the beginning of the end of the world—_

_"Tell Kamui-chan and Onii-chan that I love them both ... and that the future is not yet decided."_

— _the young boy screaming in agony and horror as the girl he loved was stabbed in the heart by a sword wielded by his childhood friend—_

_"Come with me, Kakyou. Weave a dream for me – and I will fulfil your Wish."_

 

—he remembered all of it, from Hokuto's death and the gathering of the Dragons, to the awakening of the Kamui, the battles, and the destructive Final Day. He remembered every _one_ as well, their names and powers and dreams and deaths, all with the clarity of crystal shards. Most of all, he remembered himself trapped in a useless body unable to do anything except dream and wish for death. An entire life he had never actually lived.

Kakyou was terrified of returning to it. Alone and suspended in a body fed by tubes, trapped in the world of dreams - what if the next time he fell asleep he never woke up? What if he wandered into a dream and couldn't find his way back? Better to stay awake, even if it killed him, than to re-awaken those powers and sleep forever ...

An ugly cackle made his head jerk from its droop. Wild-eyed, Kakyou stared at the raucous anime character on the television reassuring himself he was awake, before reaching for his mug. The coffee inside had long gone cold, and he spilled half of it over his shaking hands while forcing it down his throat. Don't sleep. On the television, a cartoon city was now being blown up like falling kekkai, and he hastily changed the channel. Somewhere, a telephone was ringing again. Again, Kakyou let the answering machine take it. A news channel, with a bulletin about a minor earthquake up north – he hit the remote, found some ads, and hit again. Don't sleep. A talk show about Tokyo shopping, shallow and undramatic. Kakyou made himself watch it and name the streets and buildings which appeared. Naka-Meguro. Omotesando. Dover Street Market. The host's sweet voice was refreshingly light. Soon Kakyou's head was drooping once more. The show's host began speaking to a guest, a beautiful red-haired woman stylishly dressed and with a voice warm as lantern flame. This time when Kakyou slumped over, he didn't catch himself.

Fourteen hours later, Kakyou woke with a horrified gasp and a painful bang. It took him a moment of panicked flailing to realise he was on the floor next to his couch, and the bang had been from his leg slamming into the coffee table. A leg that was kicking trapped in the blanket he was wrapped in. The television was still prattling on, and there was sunlight outlining the edges of his curtains. Window curtains, not the curtains of a bed draped with life support tubes, and gradually Kakyou's breathing evened enough for the last realisation hit.

He was awake. He didn't remember dreaming at all.

The pain in his leg faded. Stiffly, Kakyou got to his feet and looked around. His apartment, a comfortably sized one bedroom with separate kitchenette and filled with painting supplies, was stuffy and stank of stale air. He himself was filthy in coffee and sweat-stained pajamas. The television was saying something about fine weather, and from his window he could hear the buzz of cars and people.

Alive.

A relieved sob escaped Kakyou's throat. He had an urge to run, to go outside and shout and jump for no reason other than he _just could –_ though it would probably feel even more amazing if he cleaned up first. Wiping tears from his face, Kakyou bundled up the blanket and went to switch off the television, which was currently showing an ad for soap products. It made Kakyou pause and think. Something he had heard, someone he had seen before dozing off ...

A shower, broom, and laundry cycle later saw Kakyou hurrying out onto the sunny streets of Tokyo, phone messages forgotten, with an annotated list of names in his pocket and electric determination in his stride. There was so much he needed to know, so much he had to find out – and he was going to do it all on his own two legs.

 

**Shinjuku, Tokyo**

It was slow going. Very slow going, like trying to catch fish at the end of season, and the fact that his brain had come up with that metaphor only added to Yoshirou's frustration. He didn't even have a messy desk to show for his efforts, just a small file of notes and photocopies from obscure books on Japanese folklore that, until he came along, hadn't been checked out for years. That the Sakurazukamori existed Yoshirou needed no convincing of, thanks to the oh-so-useful Shouhei, the question worthy of the Director-General's attention was whether the Sakurazukamori existed now, today, in flesh and blood and capable of spearing a man through the heart as easily as an ishidai—

 _Fuck._ Violently, Yoshirou stood from his desk, and, ignoring the startled looks from his colleagues, took a walk to the office kitchen area – he needed a break, tea, and something to eat. Tea he found in the communal cupboard, and his combini bento was in the fridge next to his colleagues' girlfriend/fiance/wife-made lunches, some wrapped in cloth flowery enough to make his teeth ache. With still some forty minutes before the lunch hour Yoshirou had the kitchen area to himself and took advantage of it, heating his bento in the microwave and hauling a pair of chairs by the window so that he could prop his legs up and look outside. Beyond the sealed windows of the PSIA headquarters the sky was a bright mid-autumn blue. As he ate, Yoshirou calmed down and took mental stock of the progress he had made.

The Sakurazukamori was an onmyouji. Shouhei had been quite firm on this, which was helpful since the handful of stories Yoshirou had found referred to the Sakurazukamori as a vengeful spirit. That inaccuracy aside, the stories, fragmentary as they were, had been informative in describing the Sakurazukamori's powers: casting illusions, a killer storm of sakura petals, the power to rip through a person's heart with bare hands just as Yoshirou had seen with Hiroyoshi's corpse, all in addition to the usual onmyoujitsu spells Yoshirou knew about from Shouhei. Some had described the Sakurazukamori as a woman, and from what Yoshirou could tell the stories weren't all from the Heian period either, implying to him that the Sakurazukamori could be more than one person. More interestingly, a couple of stories had hinted that the Sakurazukamori was considered the enemy of the Sumeragi clan, something Shouhei had _not_ mentioned during their dinner last week, and now made Yoshirou suspect that Shouhei had his own reasons for putting Yoshirou on the Sakurazukamori's trail. Which Yoshirou was fine with, because he knew Shouhei wouldn't have done so unless it was helping Yoshirou as well. Shouhei was honourable like that.

 

_"And you're working with the Sumeragi clan! That must be a big deal in your world, being in with the country's pre-eminent onmyouji."_

_"It's not that important."_

 

It had been a surprise to hear Kitajima Shouhei's name dropped by that Kyoto detective. Truth be told Yoshirou hadn't thought of his kohai much since he had left university, other than with a vague nostalgia for simpler times in which Yoshirou had learned something new. Something invaluable. Proof that the spiritual world which was woven so tightly with this country's culture and traditions was real.

Shouhei was that proof. Not just in that he had supernatural powers, his powers came with _history_ , underlined by how he was now working closely with the Sumeragi whose lineage could be traced back centuries. For all that Shouhei was, like Yoshirou, a broken family kid, he was special in a way that Yoshirou could never match and always envied. Oh, sure, Yoshirou worked hard and had risen far above his beginnings, but at the end of the day he would always be a fisherman's son made good while Shouhei could claim a heritage that was literally the stuff of legend—

"Ishikuro-san." Footsteps clunked up behind Yoshirou who despite tensing up, kept his relaxed pose for a couple of heartbeats before turning. As expected, it made Section Chief Yamakawa twitch. "Could you step into my office, please."

Yoshirou smiled as if he was doing Yamakawa a favour. "Certainly," he replied, putting the remains of his lunch aside and standing with a flourish. Yamakawa, a short man, visibly reddened as Yoshirou towered over him. "After you, sir."

It was always amusing to walk behind a man like Yamakawa who, instead of confidently striding ahead, kept glancing over his shoulder to see how close Yoshirou was. Other looks turned on Yoshirou: curious looks, bored looks, smirking looks, but none worried or supportive. Yoshirou widened his grin keeping his head high as he passed his colleagues. Entering Yamakawa's office he stood at ease, hands loose, ready for what he knew was coming. Yamakawa sat down behind his desk. Yoshirou thought he looked like a kappa. "I'll get right to it," Yamakawa said curtly. "Your recent absences from work have been noticed. Care to explain them?"

Yoshirou widened his eyes in an imitation of chagrin. "My absences?"

"Last Tuesday you left the office before lunch and didn't return. Wednesday you didn't come in at all. Thursday and Friday you were observed leaving work early. I have no record of you calling in sick or applying for leave. Explain."

Tuesday and Wednesday had been the days Yoshirou had dropped everything to dash to Kyoto. The others had been him being fed up with his usual work and heading off to libraries researching what he could on the Sakurazukamori. Of course he couldn't tell Yamakawa that, and he had already prepared an excuse. "My sincere apologies. It's my father, you see, he had a sudden medical emergency and I took off to Kanazawa on Tuesday without thinking. I should have informed you, I know, but you weren't to be found and I was so worried since my father is all alone ..."

He kept it contrite, he kept it humble. Filial duty needed little explanation, and Yamakawa would never know that really Yoshirou couldn't give a rat's arse about the drunkard who had sired him. "I see," Yamakawa said grudgingly when he'd finished. "And Thursday and Friday?"

"Preparations. I thought it would be good for my father to come stay with me in Tokyo for a while, and I needed some time to get things ready. I'm dreadfully sorry, I kept meaning to discuss it with you but with everything happening all at once and—"

"All right, all right," cut in Yamakawa waving off the rest of the spiel, and Yoshirou put on his best rueful look while inwardly toasting victory. "I'll let things go this time, but only this time, do you hear? I'm watching you, and if you pull another stunt like that I won't just bury you in Archives, I'll see that you're tossed back to the Tokyo MPD issuing traffic fines. Is that clear?"

For all that Yoshirou knew that he was getting off scott free he couldn't help rankling at Yamakawa's tone. "Yes, sir," he replied, biting back the sarcasm.

"You may go. I expect your update on the Osaka Communists handed in by the end of the week. And you'd better send a retrospective leave application to HR."

"Yes, sir." Yoshirou bowed, something which Yamakawa didn't even acknowledge as he turned to his papers, then left before he could say anything that could land him in trouble. Already he could hear the whispers around the floor – _Ishikuro's been hauled up again, look he isn't even sorry –_ which of course he ignored as he headed back to his desk. Let them talk, let them gossip, he was working on something for the Director-General himself, and it was far more interesting than surveillance on agitators who were all talk with no substance. Yamakawa's dressing down did mean that Yoshirou would have to halt his out-of-office excursions for the foreseeable future, but that was fine, he had exhausted that research trail anyway. The next one Yoshirou had in mind could be done from his work desk. Humming under his breath Yoshirou sat down, picked up the phone, and called the Tokyo MPD.

 

**Sagano, Kyoto**

"How are you this morning?"

It was hard to see across the room but Shouhei didn't need sight to know how distant Subaru's eyes were, as if his cousin sat on the far side of a misty gorge. "I'm well, Obaa-chan, thank you."

"That's good." The positive note in Lady Sumeragi's voice failed to lift. "And you slept well last night?"

"Yes, Obaa-chan."

"... good." Lady Sumeragi reached out. "Let me see your hands."

Obediently Subaru lifted his hands for his grandmother to take. The bandages were barely whiter than his skin. Gently Lady Sumeragi unwrapped Subaru's hands letting the bandages fall like sighs, and quietly Shouhei readied the spell. Just in case.

"You're better. Look, Subaru-san." Smiling, Lady Sumeragi turned Subaru's hands showing him the healed backs where scissors had once slashed. Where deeper marks still lay in wait. Subaru glanced down with mild curiosity. "Do they hurt any more?" she asked.

"No, Obaa-chan."

"I'm glad to hear it. No, don't touch them," Lady Sumeragi added, tightening her grip to keep Subaru's hands from caressing each other, "we need to put your gloves on. Shouhei-san?"

He was already stepping forward. "Yes, Sumeragi-sama." He knelt down next to them, pulling the gloves from his jacket pocket, rich green since Hokuto refused to buy something conservative for her brother. "Here."

The gloves passed between them, necessitating Lady Sumeragi to release Subaru's hands which she passed to Shouhei. Up close the backs of Subaru's hands were criss-crossed with thin white lines that made Shouhei feel that what he was touching was sculpted wood, not flesh. They rested limply against his palms as Shouhei and Subaru waited for Lady Sumeragi to cast her spell, a quiet, intricate thing that soaked into the green gloves slowly turning them dark. Whether or not the spell hid the marks from the Sakurazukamori Shouhei did not know, but it did hide them from Subaru himself.

 _Do you ever squirm when you fiddle with Subaru's memories?_ Hokuto's voice asked again, and Shouhei flinched. Of course he squirmed, he squirmed every time he went Within and saw what Lady Sumeragi had wrought. What he had helped her refine and maintain, knowing that somewhere behind the black mirrors prowled a Subaru who was burning and profaned and desperately isolated. It worked, but it couldn't last, which was why Shouhei was now researching the psychology of memory, trying to wed those studies with onmyoujitsu to plan a spell to erase the Sakurazukamori from Subaru's mind and make the barriers redundant. Thus far his progress could be measured in ant steps but at least it was doable— _Those memories and experiences are what make Subaru Subaru, for better_ and _for worse, you can't just scrub them out and pretend they never happened—_

 _It will work,_ Shouhei insisted to the Hokuto in his mind.  _It will work, your brother will be better, and all can be made right. You'll see. I'll show you._

The gloves in Lady Sumeragi's hands were now ink black. Unresisting Subaru simply waited, his fingers cool in Shouhei's grip. A knock on the door made them all turn. "Pardon me, Oba-san," said Katsumi, respect softening her usual crispness. "There's a call for you from the Diet in Tokyo. Culture ministry."

If Lady Sumeragi was irritated by the interruption she did not show it. "Very well," she said, and stood giving the gloves to Shouhei. "Excuse me, Subaru-san – Shouhei-san, please finish here."

"Yes, Sumeragi-sama." She left, leading Katsumi who cast Shouhei and Subaru a raised eyebrow before following – with both Katsumi and Takeshi now returned from their trips Shouhei was going to have to get used to such looks again. Subaru on the other hand didn't seem to have noticed. Shouhei picked up one of the gloves. "Please lift your left hand, Subaru-san."

Subaru did so and Shouhei carefully began to dress his cousin's hands in the gloves. The concealing spell tingled like nettle stings and Shouhei couldn't help wondering how long it would be before Subaru tried to re-carve into himself the mark of the Sakurazukamori—

 _He has a name, you know,_ Hokuto had sneeringly said to him once. _Sakurazuka like Sakurazukamori, Seishirou with the kanji for star, history, and son. Try using it sometime and remember he's a person as well._

Sakurazuka Seishirou. A man Shouhei had never met but knew an uncomfortable lot about. A man who, like the assassins before him, killed countless people without regret, and a man who Shouhei had seen gaily help Hokuto in the kitchen, play with dogs, and kiss Subaru with burning passion. A man who had apparently killed Hokuto with a smile and fought to bring about the end of the world which he had faced in Subaru's embrace while the Kamuis duelled. A man who proudly obeyed no rules save his own word which he broke when breaking Subaru's heart for the second time.

Why hadn't Sakurazuka come looking for Subaru? For five years Subaru had been left alone, even though Shouhei had seen with his own eyes bloody evidence that Sakurazuka had been in Kyoto. Perhaps as Lady Sumeragi said, Sakurazuka didn't care at all, and having wrung what entertainment he could had discarded Subaru like a broken toy. Yet such reasoning felt too easy, too simplistic for a man who waited nearly a decade before commencing a year-long bet with his own pride at stake. The only other reading Shouhei's mind could turn up was that Sakurazuka was avoiding Subaru with frightening self-discipline. As wild as such a theory was, if true that would mean ... what?

The gloves were on. Shouhei let Subaru's hands fall. "All done," he said, trying to inject some cheer. "You know, I think Hokuto-san is in the dojo at the moment, why don't you go practice with her? It'll be good for you."

"Perhaps." Subaru's green eyes were vague and his posture listless. "Katsumi-san looked at you strangely again. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Listless, vague, but not to be underestimated. Shouhei would need to remember that in crafting the erasing spell. "Thank you, but it's fine, I don't need your help." Abruptly he stood; he wanted to be anywhere but here. Who was worse, Sakurazuka who had hurt Subaru, or himself and Lady Sumeragi for keeping Subaru like precious ceramic-work cracked and wrapped in heavy cloth never to be displayed again? "I can handle things myself."

He left, hurrying down the hall to the nearest door for that opened onto the garden. There Shouhei stopped gulping in the fresh air and sunlight until the claustrophobia of Subaru's room was gone. Five years Subaru had been kept inside this estate, and Shouhei and Lady Sumeragi had corralled his mind to the point that even the desire to leave was suffocated. But that would all end, Shouhei told himself, end when the Sakurazukamori was cleansed from Subaru's thoughts, and – if all went well – perhaps even from this life.

A bird called. Shouhei glanced up to see a woodpecker leading a pair of glowing white birds on a flight about the garden - Nuriko was training the children again. The three shikigami landed on the maple and Shouhei found himself remembering how in his first month at Tohoku University he looked up into the trees to see a ghost, long black hair lank and tangled, shaking a wide rotting branch until it broke and plummeted towards a tall student walking below. Shouhei had thrown himself to haul the tall student to safety, the student had thanked him helping him to stand, and from that point on Shouhei had made a friend.

Had Shouhei done the right thing setting Yoshirou on the Sakurazukamori's path? The Sakurazukamori was highly dangerous and getting too close would put Yoshirou's life at risk - but Yoshirou worked in the police and was smart enough to be careful. Possibly smart enough to find a way to identify the Sakurazukamori and bring some form of justice. Such was the explanation Shouhei had given Lady Sumeragi who once she knew that Yoshirou worked anti-corruption in the Tokyo MPD had agreed that Shouhei had done the right thing. Even if Yoshirou didn't catch Sakurazuka himself Yoshirou could go after those who supported him and undermine the Sakurazukamori that way, in which case Shouhei was going to be the one buying an expensive dinner—

 _You call Ishikawa-senpai friend but it means a very different thing to him._ From forgotten recesses the young woman's ghost snarled at him, her black hair lit with the unnatural flames Shouhei had exorcised her with. _He'll do anything to be Special, and as long as you help him feel that he'll keep you. I'll welcome you to the afterlife when you don't._

Maybe there was a reason Shouhei had fallen out of touch with Ishikawa Yoshirou in the first place.

The birds sang in harmony. Pulling himself together, Shouhei decided to join them.

 

* * *

 

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

The sandbag swayed back and forth with her hits and kicks. Hokuto focused on making its curve wider and wider, imagining it to be a wrecking ball she could smash through the walls of the dojo and her house and life leaving holes she could stride out of taking Subaru with her—

"Hokuto-san." The metal-cool voice made her freeze, leaving the sandbag to swing freely. Sweaty and panting Hokuto turned to face the kimono-clad figure in the dojo doorway who looked her over with a depressingly familiar critical eye. "Don't you have university classes?" Lady Sumeragi asked.

"Not until the afternoon." She didn't bow, and thankfully Lady Sumeragi didn't seem to expect her to, instead simply watching as Hokuto fetched her water bottle from against the wall and drink. "What do you want?"

Lady Sumeragi didn't rise to the curt tone. "I've received a call from the Diet, and will need to go to Tokyo next week for a few days. Takeshiro-san will accompany me, and Nuriko-san and Shouhei-san will be left in charge in my absence. I came here to inform you and say that I expect you to listen to them as you do me. Is that understood?"

Hokuto's sore hands tightened around the bottle. "Yes, Obaa-chama."

"Good." A hesitation. "Would you like me to bring back anything for you from Tokyo?"

 _My freedom. My old life._ "Don't bother," Hokuto said airily, putting the water bottle down and returning to the sandbag. "You wouldn't approve of what I want, let alone know where to find the shops I like. Presuming they're still around after all this time."

She began to punch again, striking out with all of her the frustration and helpless anger. One hit. Two. Three. Four. Still her grandmother kept watching her, silent and hurt. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. _Leave,_ Hokuto thought, fighting back tears,  _go to Tokyo and leave me alone._ Nine hits. Ten. Eleven—

She missed. The sandbag struck her shoulder with a solid whack that forced out a gasp and tears. When Hokuto had wiped her cheeks dry Lady Sumeragi was gone. Sniffling Hokuto let her arms fall, anger and frustration suddenly replaced by hollow guilt. She could apologise to her grandmother ... no. Not when her grandmother was still resolved on erasing Subaru's memories.

The sandbag hung baleful and heavy. Waiting for her to do something. She could walk out dragging Subaru with her and run but what would that achieve? With little money and Subaru the way he was it wouldn't be long before all the shikigami of their family found and brought them back to Kyoto to exactly the same position, only worse because Lady Sumeragi would undoubtedly send Hokuto away. And that was presuming they had somewhere to go in the first place – Hokuto didn't know anywhere well except Tokyo, she didn't have any friends she could ask for help except Kakyou, and he hadn't even been taking her calls lately. The only thing Hokuto had heard of her friend these past few days was his answering machine, and none of the messages she had left had been returned.

Maybe she had done it. Gone too far, spilling all the crazy things about her family and Subaru and Seishirou and scared Kakyou off to find another girl who had a normal family. A girl in Tokyo. A girl he could talk to face to face and even hold hands with ...

 _Thunk. Thunk._ The sandbag began to swing again, its shape blurred by tears. Hokuto told herself the pain was from her fists, but being herself, she knew better.

 

**Roppongi, Tokyo**

Seven. With only a library computer, phone books, and his memories of that other life, Kakyou had over the past several days managed to track down seven of the other Dragons of Heaven and Earth. Knowing that there was a high chance none of them remembered anything he hadn't reached out to make contact, but the more he had seen of them the more Kakyou was convinced that this life was a new life, and the Final Day had been and gone.

Arisugawa Sorata was living with his parents and attending a high school in Tokyo's east. Kishuu Arashi was the same at a high school not far from Sorata's. Kigai Yuuto was in the junior ranks of the Tokyo public service, while Yatouji Satsuki was the reason her school's elite computer programming club existed. Shiyuu Kusanagi was working as a forest conservationist. Aoki Seiichirou was again a magazine editor, and it was because of him, specifically one of his articles, that Kakyou was now sitting at a terrace table of a high-end Roppongi café waiting for a meeting. His leg jittered up and down; he was exhausted, almost as worn out as his shoes and public transport card from the past few days, but anticipation made his eyes bright. If his hunch was correct ...

A flash of red caught his attention, shining in the sun just as it had on the Final Day against the white of a long scarf, only this time the white was a coat, tailored and elegant, and the scarf was sheer blue patterned with bright flowers. Cobalt-coloured gloves removed a pair of sunglasses revealing curious eyes that searched the terrace until they met Kakyou's rigid stare. Smiling, the red-haired woman walked up to him with a model's walk paying no attention to the admiring glances that followed. "You must be Kakyou," Kasumi Karen said warmly. "I'm pleased to finally meet you."

Kakyou got to his feet and bowed. "Thank you for meeting with me, Kasumi-san, I don't know how much you got from my message—"

"Oh, I got enough, certainly more than enough to reschedule a meeting. After all, it's not every day I get a call from my past life." Removing her gloves Karen sat down gesturing for Kakyou to do the same. "We're probably going to be talking for a while, so why don't we order something and get comfortable – excuse me, waiter?" The pitch of her voice barely rose yet was enough to cut perfectly through the noise and bring the waiter running. "One cappuccino and the petit-fours to share, and—?" Kakyou made his request. "A pot of Earl Grey tea. Water as well, please."

The waiter bowed and hurried off, leaving Kakyou and Karen to study each other across the table. Kakyou had seen Karen before but only in dreams, and the memories of those paled in comparison to the living woman before him. Several years older than him she was certainly beautiful, with hair the colour of sunset and creamy pale skin over a figure Kakyou blushed to remember, but more than her beauty was the warmth she exuded, caring and open that made immediately put Kakyou at ease. He wondered what she was seeing in him. "A Dragon of Earth," Karen murmured. "We never identified all of you, and I don't recognise your face – who were you then, and who are you now?"

Kakyou had rehearsed this. "My name is Kuzuki Kakyou. In our other life I was the Dreamgazer of the Dragons of Earth, and my powers were such that my body was virtually useless. I spent my entire life confined to a bed and used by those who wanted me to read dreams for them. The last one who used me was the /Kamui/ otherwise known as Monou Fuuma." Inhumanly cold eyes promising him the death he wished for— "I had no reason to live, which I suppose is why I was a Dragon of Earth, but in this life ..." Kakyou couldn't stop himself smiling. "I walk. I have a family and friends. I'm an art and philosophy student at Tokyo University, and in my spare time I make myself do sports. I'm not really good at any of them but that doesn't matter, because I'm alive in a body that works. I don't dream. I live a normal life, and I can be happy."

"That's wonderful!" Karen's face glowed with genuine delight. "And you're a handsome young man too - Sorata-kun had a joke about us Dragons of Heaven winning in the beauty stakes but he obviously never saw you. I suppose since you were the Dreamgazer you know about me already – soap girl, fire wielder, and such?" Kakyou nodded. "Even about my childhood?"

Kakyou shifted in his chair. "As you said, since I was the Dreamgazer it was my role to find what information I could ..."

"Saa, don't look so awkward!" laughed Karen. "That time was quite literally a different life, and not only do I not hold grudges, in this life I had a happy childhood and mother and I get along fine. You have nothing to worry about with me."

She placed a hand on his arm, patting it reassuringly until eventually Kakyou managed a self-conscious smile. The fire-mistress of soapland Flower, the woman who in a way became aunt, mother, and elder sister to the young Dragons of Heaven ... "Thank you," he said quietly. "I'm glad to have heard that."

"I'm glad to have told you, especially since you're the only Dragon I've spoken with who also remembers. How did you get your memories back?"

"It was something a friend said to me last week." Guilt slithered along Kakyou's bones; he was yet to call Hokuto again but he had been so caught up with this past life investigation— "It wasn't much, but it must have triggered something in me ..."

He trailed off, not wanting to recall how terrified he had been. "It's frightening, isn't it," Karen said gently. "I remember when my memories were triggered about three years ago, I ended up such a mess I had to leave work and go straight home where I cried for days. Then like you I realised everything is different. I have a new life. One which I intend to live to the fullest." She winked.

"What triggered you to remember?"

"I met a little girl. She had been with her school group and crossing an intersection next to where I was doing a street photo shoot. She became distracted in the middle of the road, a car turned the corner heading straight for her and without thinking I ran into the road to snatch her up. She looked at me with huge eyes that shook something in my mind, and when I learned her name was Kazuki it all came back."

"Nataku," Kakyou murmured. "One of the Dragons of Earth. The genderless bioroid created by a scientist mourning his granddaughter."

"And the one who died in my arms on the Final Day. She - it called me mother and tried to save me from the /Kamui/." Karen's smile turned bitter-sweet. "Then the /Kamui/ stabbed us both with the Shinken. I try not to remember that bit too often. Hopefully Kazuki-chan never does."

Red hair against white, dark blood and dying flames as the sword was pulled out— "Have you seen the Kamui? Either of them, I mean."

"I have, actually. Both of them. They live at Togakushi shrine with their parents and the girl Kotori. They're all very happy from what I've seen, and blissfully unaware of what they lived before. Have you seen them?"

"No." Water arrived glittering in the sunlight, followed by coffee and a teapot on a ceramic stand above a tiny candle. "I ... didn't want to risk reminding them."

"I understand. As things are they wouldn't remember us anyway, and rightly so. Much as I like Kamui-kun, the only reason he met all of us in the last life is because he lost the people most precious to him. Now he has them back." Karen sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "So how did you find me? More importantly, how did you realise I remembered?"

"I found a magazine article profiling your modelling work and lingerie business. Asuka, spring last year. You were interviewed by Aoki Seiichirou."

" _Ah._ " Gracefully Karen leaned back in her chair, a small, private smile on her lips. "And what did you pick up from it?"

"There was a bit where you discuss your support and advocacy for sex workers. You quoted 'there but for the grace of God I go' and commented how in another life that would have been you ... I took a chance."

"One that worked out. Have you seen him recently? Aoki-san, I mean."

The waiter reappeared again, placing down a white plate on which sat a quartet of small exquisite cakes. "I haven't seen him, no," said Kakyou once the waiter left. "I just saw his name in the list of Kadokawa staff, and from there found your interview which was too much of a coincidence." He sipped his candle-hot tea; all this talking was making his throat dry. "Does the Windmaster remember as well?"

"He doesn't. He's married again to his wife of that last life, and they again have a little daughter. He has the happiness he had then, with none of the sadness of needing to fight for the fate of the world or a murdered nephew." Karen's smile grew wistful. "It also means that he and I no longer have the friendship we had that last life, but I can live with that. Who knows, with a bit of luck over time we may have a chance to strike up a new friendship. What about the other Dragons, have you seen any of them?"

One by one Kakyou and Karen compared notes. He told her about people he had found, which when combined with Karen's list accounted for twelve Dragons so far including themselves. As well as Nataku, the two Kamui, and Aoki Seiichirou, Karen had also located the former monk and priestess, as well as Nekoi Yuzuriha. "She's at school surrounded by friends, and I saw them all playing with the most beautiful friendly dog," said Karen, obviously pleased. "The only person on my side I haven't seen is Sumeragi Subaru, but since I know the Sumeragi clan is alive and well in Kyoto I've presumed he's there living peacefully."

"He is." Thoughts of Hokuto sobbing in his ear, the awful situation she and her brother were in— "But not living peacefully."

Karen's face fell. "Because he remembers?"

Kakyou awkwardly stirred his tea trying to pick a line of approach. "Ah, how much do you know about the Sumeragi's involvement with the Sakurazukamori?" he asked at last.

"I know they were fighting each other for reasons more personal than the Final Year. Something about the Sakurazukamori murdering Subaru-san's sister – I hope that hasn't been repeated this life?"

"Thankfully no. But it's still not good." Should he be telling Karen this? It was so sensitive and personal, even with him it had been years before a moment of desperation prompted Hokuto to reveal things. But Karen had known Subaru in that other life, and Hokuto needed help which Kakyou could not give— "Sumeragi Subaru was romantically involved with the Sakurazukamori," Kakyou said, rushing the words out before regret could catch them. "Both in that last life and this one, but particularly in this one. It ended badly last time, and it ended badly this time except not as badly because Hokuto-chan is alive however Hokuto-chan's family is keeping Subaru-san imprisoned because they don't want him to go after or even remember the Sakurazukamori—"

"Slow down," Karen interrupted. Her smile was gone and her expression now serious. "Start from the beginning. The Sakurazukamori has also returned, okay, but what has happened with Subaru-san, who is Hokuto-chan, and what do you mean Subaru-san and the Sakurazukamori were involved? Take a drink first."

Between gulps of tea Kakyou told her, both about that previous life from meeting Hokuto in his dreams and her murder by the Sakurazukamori, to the Sakurazukamori and the Sumeragi during the Final Year, as well as the essentials of what Hokuto had told him about her family and Subaru and Seishirou in this one. As he did so Karen's beautiful face grew more and more shadowed, and when he had finished their drinks and the petit-fours were all gone. "They can't live like that," said Kakyou, now clutching a glass of water. "I know better than anyone what it's like to be trapped with only dreams of freedom, and both Hokuto-chan and her brother deserve to live this second life happily. It's horrible what's being done to them, I want to help except I don't have the power—"

"Are you sure you don't have power?"

Cue off mid-sentence Kakyou stared at her as something cold knotted in his stomach. Calmly Karen stared back, then, when Kakyou didn't say anything, stretched one manicured finger out towards the little candle beneath Kakyou's teapot. By now it had burned down almost to the base, and the flame was little more than a glow at the wick's tip. As Kakyou watched, however, Karen brought her finger next to the wick and concentrated. In a split second the flame flared up with enough force to leave black soot all over the inside the ceramic tea-stand, and settled only when Karen pulled her finger back. "You have your power still," said Karen softly. "Now that you remember it'll return slowly over the days and weeks. Not to the levels of strength needed to fight for the end of the world, thankfully, and I certainly don't do kekkais now, but our powers are a part of us that can't be denied. Just don't tell my mother," Karen added, smile suddenly pained.

Still Kakyou stared at the remains of the candle, his veins now filled with dread. "And the others?" he asked mechanically.

"It depends. Even though he doesn't remember Aoki-san has the same powers as his wind-master family, and you've just said that Subaru-san and the Sakurazukamori have theirs. My theory is that those Dragons who came from a bloodline of practitioners still have their powers regardless of their memories because it's their heritage. Dragons like you and me, however, our powers were a spontaneous occurrence to make us fight for the fate of the world." Karen shrugged. "Or maybe the reason is more random and depends on each person's individual Wish. But it does raise a question I've often wondered about: if remembering reawakens power, what would happen if Kamui himself remembers?"

The dread in Kakyou's blood chilled further. "If Kamui remembers, if _either_ of the Kamui remember ..."

"Who knows." Karen forced her smile back up. "Maybe nothing would happen. But I'm quite happy not to test it."

Silence around the two of them filled by oblivious café chatter. Then Karen shook herself. "Enough dwelling on the past," she pronounced, pouring out more water, "what are you going to do now? Will you try to save the girl you like?"

Kakyou turned beet-red. "I – the girl I like – I didn't—"

"You didn't have to say anything, it was written all over your face." Karen's eyes twinkled above her water glass. "You like Subaru-san's sister, and if she's half as kind and pretty as I remember Subaru-san to be you've chosen well. Poor Subaru-san." She sighed sympathetically. "I wasn't close to him during the Final Year, but do remember that he almost never smiled. When he did it was usually for someone else like Kamui-kun or Yuzuriha-chan, never for himself. Now I know why, and I'm very sorry to hear that he's suffering again."

The accusation rose in Kakyou like bad air. "Blame the Sakurazukamori."

"Maybe." A perfectly-shaped eyebrow lifted on Karen's face. "And yet surely even the Sakurazukamori also had something to come back for. A Wish of his own, perhaps, one probably involving Subaru-san? We all had a Wish, whether for death or to protect someone or simply to live, and during the Final Year wishes were a powerful magic on their own. With our destinies no longer foreordained, we now have plenty of time to make wishes come true including mistakes along the way."

It was a gentle chiding, but a chiding all the same. Contritely Kakyou bowed his head, and Karen's expression softened. "Your powers won't take over your life this time. You can use them to save Hokuto-chan, but when you do try to save Subaru-san as well. If that means letting him find the Sakurazukamori so be it – we may have been given a second life, but it's up to each of us to decide what to do with it."

"All right." Something niggled in Kakyou's mind, something about something Karen had said ... "Though I still don't know how I could save them."

"I'm sure you'll think of a way. How hard can it be compared to battling for the end of the world?"

She had a point there. Also she had given him inspiration. Kakyou stood and bowed. "Thank you, Kasumi-san, for your time and words, they've really helped."

"Call me Karen. In fact, call me any time you want to talk." Opening her handbag Karen took out a pen and pocketbook, and wrote a phone number on a page which she tore out. "We're an exclusive club of ex-Dragons, after all, and need a support network."

She held out the paper and Kakyou gladly took it. Offers from him to pay for the food were waved off, and then they were saying farewells with Kakyou already itching to go. The idea that had just struck— "One last thing, Kakyou-kun," added Karen, "since as the Dreamgazer you may have a better idea than me. Why did we all come back?"

"I thought that was obvious." He grinned over his shoulder. "Your Kamui won. And then he made a Wish."

The little smile on Karen's face spread and shone above her flowery scarf. It dawned on Kakyou then just how full of possibility this second life was, not just in terms of changing things but meeting those who had fought and loved and died in that past life on better terms. To know each of them, perhaps, as themselves rather than their powers, even make friends. Although 'friend' was probably not the right word for the one Kakyou now had to meet ...

Beaming, Karen waved him goodbye and added a thumbs up for luck. Kakyou returned the gesture and, before he could tell himself this was a bad idea, headed out the café looking for the nearest train station.

 

**Ueno, Tokyo**

Laughter from the Grand Fountain sparkled and scattered beneath the tree canopy. Kakyou had been to Ueno Park plenty of times before on hanami picnics, school outings, even just for change of city scenery, and never thought twice about the trees that lived in it. They were trees, pleasing to look at, useful for shade and ecosystems, and utterly benign. Harmless.

This tree was different. This Tree grew on a hummock of blood and bone, its malevolent spirit nourished over the centuries by the deaths of thousands. This was a Tree Kakyou had seen in dreams, both his and Hokuto's brother's, as the place of Hokuto's death. Not that it looked anything like a murder scene right now.

Kakyou sighed. He was seated under the Sakura waiting yet again and yet again watching nearby people enjoy their outdoor lunches. Above him the Sakura seemed like any other tree in late autumn, its leaves turned to gold and bronze and falling at the slightest breeze. He had thought, when he first laid eyes on it, that it gave him the creeps but truth be told after three days of coming to sit here the Sakura wasn't even doing that, and he looked for all the world like a student with a favourite outdoor reading spot. Though perhaps that had something to do with him only coming in daylight hours—

A shadow fell over his book. "Admirable as such dedication is," a man's voice said, "one doesn't usually have to go to such lengths to claim a picnic spot outside of hanami."

Kakyou froze. Dropped his book and scrambled to his feet to stare at the man who had come up behind him, the man dressed in black suit and coat and sunglasses just as he had been the day they had all met under the government towers in Shinjuku. The Sakurazukamori smiled coldly. "I take it that you're the one who left the message."

"Yes." After his second day of waiting Kakyou had gotten fed up and left an unsigned note about urgently needing to meet the assassin of the Sakura, a note he had stuck high up on the Tree itself with an office pin. "I ah - thank you for coming."

"I would only say that if you walk away from here. This is not my normal way of doing business."

It took a few seconds for that to make sense in Kakyou's head. "Do you think I'm here to ask you for an assassination?" he asked, aghast by the very thought.

"It's the usual reason people try to look for me." The black sunglasses hid the Sakurazukamori's eyes, but it didn't stop Kakyou from feeling he was being pinned down. "Though this is the first time anyone has tried to approach me here."

 _And he can easily make it the last._ Kakyou gulped, but then the other penny dropped making him stare. "Wait. You don't know who I am."

"Should I?"

He didn't know. _The Sakurazukamori did not know about that other life._ Kakyou's head spun; everything he understood about the Sakurazukamori and the Sakurazukamori and Hokuto's brother in this life had to be rebuilt from the ground up except there was no time to do so— "My name is Kuzuki Kakyou," he said, trying for calm. "In a previous life we were allies known as the Dragons of Earth, and fought to bring about the end of the world under the /Kamui/. You don't remember, but I was our side's Dreamgazer. I'm here to speak to you about Sumeragi Subaru."

The sounds in the park stopped. It confused Kakyou for a moment, making him look about until he realised that the world around him was fading to black. At the same time, the Sakura's autumn image was dissolving to reveal masses of pale pink flowers whose petals fell like snow adding to the thick carpet beneath Kakyou's feet. Only the Sakurazukamori himself remained unchanged, standing with a stillness that briefly made him seem frozen in time as the maboroshi solidified leaving them alone beneath the glowing Sakura. Then the Sakurazukamori reached up and removed his sunglasses. "You have my attention, Kuzuki-kun," he said as if commenting on the weather, though his eyes were amber-hard. "I advise you to use it very carefully."

The maboroshi stretched around them cold, black, and limitless. Kakyou was trapped inside it with the Sakurazukamori, and yet, strangely, he realised it did not scare him, quite the opposite in fact. The endless black was not unlike a dreamscape, and Kakyou had been a Dreamgazer. A Dreamgazer powerful enough to see into the dreams of every one of the fourteen Dragons. Karen had said his powers wouldn't be as strong in this life, but perhaps here surrounded by such similar magic, they didn't need to be. Drawing in a breath, Kakyou closed his eyes.

Darkness. Illusion. Infinitely malleable, with only imagination as limitation. Although it had been a lifetime since Kakyou had done this his mind fell easily into the patterns of lucid dreaming, and gingerly stretched to sense the maboroshi's fabric. Changing it entirely was beyond him now, but something smaller, something to demonstrate that he was to be taken seriously ... with careful clarity Kakyou spun out a globe, half as tall as him and coloured blue and green with a dusting of clouds. It floated gently above the Sakura's carpet of flowers. "I'm glad I have your attention," he said, taking a seat with folded arms just as he had that night when the /Kamui/ had come for him, "because we really need to talk. About the past, and what that means for the present now."

The Sakurazukamori's eyes – both amber in this life, not off-set by blind white – flicked to the Earth under Kakyou, then warily back up to Kakyou's face. "I've always wondered if there being a previous life was true. Now it seems I have my proof."

Kakyou blinked. "So you _do_ remember?"

"No, I don't."

"But you know this is our second life, and about the Final Day in the first one?"

"I've been told something to that effect."

This wasn't making sense. From what Karen had told him and Kakyou's own experience, being made to remember that past life wasn't exactly difficult, it just took the right words and person. "I don't get it. Not only am I telling you right now, surely all the time you spent with Sumeragi Subaru would have triggered—"

A spray of petals rushed towards his face. There was no wind to guide them, only a tangible malice, and on instinct Kakyou imagined a shield. It appeared immediately just in time to deflect the Sakura's attack like hail off a window. "You'd be wise not to mention that name here," said the Sakurazukamori calmly, although the way he looked at Kakyou was very much not. "Dreamgazer you may be, I know you can't keep that up for long."

Adrenalin made his blood pound, and, looking up, Kakyou could already see hairline cracks in his shield. Beyond it the Sakura rustled its branches ominous and threatening. Just as it had above Hokuto when the man before Kakyou had killed her. "Very well, then," Kakyou said angrily, "let me tell you something you don't know. Right now Sumeragi Subaru, your prey, your past life opposite and lover in this life, needs your help. Badly."

The Sakurazukamori's eyes narrowed as the Sakura seemed to hiss. "And why should I care about that?"

"I haven't told you the kicker yet." Kakyou gave a thin smile. "He's been made to forget you."

That did it. The Sakurazukamori visibly froze, and his amber eyes went wide. Shock on the face of the assassin whose reputation said he cared for nothing. "It's the twelfth Sumeragi head's doing," Kakyou continued into the silence. "From what Hokuto-chan told me, Lady Sumeragi doesn't approve of her heir and grandson being in love with the family enemy, and so has taken drastic measures to block every memory of you from Subaru-san's mind. I'd say it's a good idea, except that Subaru-san is no longer recognisable as himself or the person you knew in Tokyo. So Lady Sumeragi wants to go even further and erase you from his mind entirely. What do you have to say to that, Sakurazukamori?"

For a long moment the Sakurazukamori simply gazed at him, expression unreadable. "Why are you telling me this," he asked at last.

"Because—" He glanced at the Sakura, its flowers stained pink by the blood of the corpses he knew lay tangled in its roots. "Because in our previous lives Hokuto-chan was my special person. You killed her, but like the others she has also come back to live a second life. However, as Subaru-san's sister she's trapped with her brother in Kyoto unable to freely live. They need to be saved, and I need your help to do it."

The Sakurazukamori didn't even hesitate. "No."

Kakyou gaped. "After what I've just told you, don't you want to get Subaru-san back?"

"Why should I? I've lived without him quite easily for five years."

"No, you have _existed_ without him. That's not the same as living, and don't try to tell me you haven't constantly thought of him. I was the Dreamgazer, Sakurazukamori, I Saw your dreams then, and Sumeragi Subaru was always in them, just as you were always in his."

"What should I care for a life I don't remember?" the Sakurazukamori retorted. "First lives, second lives – do what you will with your second chance, but don't try to involve me."

He really didn't want to admit anything. Of all the idiotic, stubborn fools— "But your prey is taken! Claimed by others, forced to forget you – even if you don't care for Subaru-san surely that must offend your pride—"

"Right now what offends me is your presence." The man's voice was flat, allowing the whispers of the flowers to audibly swell— "And you no longer have my attention."

The Sakura roared. Hastily Kakyou thickened his shield, spending the globe to do so leaving him kneeling inside a crystal shell. It rapidly darkened as pink petals swarmed first plastering against the shield, then swirling around it like a sandstorm. Little by little Kakyou watched his shield erode and for the first time he found himself wishing for the full powers of his old life, not this fraction which although meant he could walk wouldn't be enough to save him let alone Hokuto—

 

_"I'm sure you'll think of a way. How hard can it be compared to battling for the end of the world?"_

 

Lipstick smile and hair red as flame. Kakyou imagined the crystal shield as fire.

The Sakura screeched. All at once its flower storm whipped back to the main Tree leaving blackened petals that fell about Kakyou like ash. Defiantly he stood upright to shout. "I'm not finished, Sakurazukamori! You say you don't remember that past life, fine, because I can tell you all about it. In fact, I can tell you something even your precious Sumeragi couldn't have known, because it's something you've never said aloud. Not to him, nor anyone else."

The Sakurazukamori hadn't moved, but his chest was visibly rising as if short of breath. Kakyou noted it, noted the way the man's harsh expression wavered between the need to know and pride. For once, the latter lost. "What is it."

"Your Wish. In this second life, many of the Dragons are living new lives different to their previous so that the happiness they Wished for can be realised. You, however, are one of the few who came back exactly as yourself, as is Subaru-san. Whose Wish do you think that was?"

The amber eyes narrowed. "Subaru's."

"No." Kakyou made himself smile. "It was _yours_."

Another snarl from the Sakura - with a thought Kakyou painted birds out of the maboroshi's magic, a whole flock large and bright and burning. They flew between him and the Sakura sending out cries of flame that make the Sakura pause. "Just to be clear," Kakyou continued to the Sakurazukamori's rigid face, "your Wish wasn't explicitly, 'I Wish things could have gone differently' or 'I Wish I could make amends to Subaru-kun' - you're not a good person like that. Instead, your Wish was simply that you've realised something too late, and it would be nice to have more time with Subaru-san to understand. Well, you got what you wanted. You got the time you Wished for, you got it with Subaru-san – and you blew it. Because you're a stubborn, idiotic coward."

For a long time the only sound between them was the crackle of firebirds and the Sakura's simmering menace. The Sakurazukamori stood very, very still. Kakyou waited for him to speak. "I ... didn't know that," he said at last.

"So you say. Though I'll grant it's the closest thing you have to a good excuse for the mess you've caused this time around." Suddenly Kakyou's legs wavered; all this arguing was tiring, and he was using too much of his rediscovered powers. "I still don't understand why you don't remember anything. You've spent so long with Subaru-san and you haven't remembered, whereas just one right conversation with Hokuto-chan made me—"

He stopped. Stared at the Sakura behind the Sakurazukamori in a new, more unpleasant light. "What?" the Sakurazukamori demanded.

 _They're blocking his memories. My own grandmother and cousin, they've done something to Subaru's mind so that he can't remember anything—_ "Your Tree," Kakyou said slowly. "It's not letting you remember. That's the only explanation."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your _Tree_ is preventing you from remembering!" Flowers roared, the firebirds sang— "Just as the twelfth Sumeragi head doesn't want Subaru-san to remember you, the Sakura doesn't want you to remember what you felt for Subaru-san on the Final Day—"

The song broke off. Whirling around Kakyou realised that his firebirds had been impaled on branches of hardened wood and were now being methodically torn to shreds that faded back into the maboroshi's dark. Desperately Kakyou tried to imagine something, anything to wrest back control even as a swarm of sakura petals rushed towards him with a blizzard's killing force—

" _Enough!"_

The petals stopped. Wildly Kakyou turned to look.

The Sakurazukamori stood with a hand outstretched and fingers in a talon's curl. His head was hunched, his shoulders stiff, and he seemed to tremble with the sheer effort of imposing his will. Between them the Sakura's storm strained to move trying to reach Kakyou – a hiss of breath from the Sakurazukamori, his fingers clenched, then the flowers abruptly blew backwards twisting and gnashing like a swarm of enraged wasps even as the Sakurazukamori pushed them towards the Tree where they disappeared into the glowing crown. The branches rustled with defiance, but the Sakurazukamori's eyes were cold fire as he turned to address it. "I think that you and I have something to discuss."

Kakyou couldn't move. Not just because he had narrowly avoided death, but because right now the Sakurazukamori's inhuman calm was utterly terrifying. As he watched, the Sakurazukamori lowered his arm and, ignoring Kakyou completely, strode over to the Sakura to gaze up into its branches. His lips moved with words too low for Kakyou to hear, but the hard gaze above his smile was enough. Kakyou realised that he was holding his breath.

Three minutes. Four minutes. Still the argument between the Sakurazukamori and the Sakura continued. Kakyou watched in horrible fascination, the way the Sakura would sometimes reach flowering twigs towards the Sakurazukamori's cheek, how the Sakurazukamori's iron smile remained unmoved. Once the Sakura tried to reach for Kakyou again only to halt at a single word. Finally, like a great tamed cat, the Sakura's branches seemed to bow. "You're forgiven," the Sakurazukamori said, "but I still want my memories back. You know I'm not one for sharing."

The Sakura grumbled. Kakyou didn't dare interrupt. Then, without hesitation, the Sakurazukamori reached out and placed a hand upon the Sakura's trunk. He froze.

Kakyou drew in a sharp breath. The Sakurazukamori's eyes were wild, he was sinking to his knees – quickly Kakyou ran over and grabbed shoulders turning him onto his back, only to pause as he saw the man's face. The Sakurazukamori was deathly white, every muscle taut as if under unimaginable strain, and he didn't answer when Kakyou called his name. Instead, he simply stared up and far into the Sakura's countless pink flowers. He wasn't seeing.

He was _remembering_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- An _ishidai_ is a striped beak-fish.


	4. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've been searching for you for a long time."
> 
> "Why?"
> 
> "To make my Wish reality."

"You had no right to take what is mine."

_It is in your best interests._

" _I_ will decide my best interests, thank you very much."

_You will regret this._

"Perhaps. In the meantime, I'm beginning to regret our previous trust."

… _I am sorry._

"You're forgiven. But I still want my memories back. You know I'm not one for sharing."

 _Very well_. The Sakura bowed its crown. _But remember also, there are rules even you must follow._

In his mind he saw roots loosening around a void. A void that for the past five years he had thought and felt to be bottomless, but was now revealed to have bedrock, invisible in the dark below but unmistakably there, made of things he could exist without but nevertheless belonged to him. Existing was not living, as the damned Dreamgazer had said, and he was a very selfish man.

The whispers of the dead crowded around him. Without hesitating Seishirou reached into the dark to touch.

 

* * *

 

Nothing. After twelve months of flirting, chauffeuring and supporting there was nothing more to Sumeragi Subaru beyond the innocence and purity from when Seishirou had marked him as prey. Nothing complicated, no flaw or depth on which interest could hold, Subaru was as clear as a glass cup and just as fragile, resonating with every damaged soul despite Hokuto's best efforts, to the extreme of giving himself up to the knife of a desperate woman. Seishirou had protected Subaru then, lost half his eyesight in the process, but only because of the rules of the Bet, not for any feeling. Oh there had been moments – irritation at the boy's passiveness, physical desire for his beauty, frustration at such naïveté, even rare flashes of anger – but not enough to prevent Subaru's death. Certainly Seishirou had not felt anything that could be described as love.

So Seishirou finished it. Pulled Subaru into a maboroshi where they could face each other Sumeragi to Sakurazukamori, and called an end to their game in a fanfare of sakura and shattered bones. Even then Subaru, pure, simple Subaru to whom everyone and therefore no one was special, Subaru the theoretically most powerful head of the Sumeragi, refused to lift a finger to defend himself, only weeping like some martyred saint or angel and every bit as remote.

Why didn't the boy _do_ something?!

In the end, the question was academic. The twelfth head of the Sumeragi sent her shikigami to save what remained of her grandson, and although it meant the loss of a kill Seishirou let it happen. The boy was pathetic, he wasn't even worth killing other than for his name and the Bet. Dogs dying on the veterinary table fought harder for their lives. Smiling over his disgust, Seishirou stepped over Subaru's broken body and left without looking back.

 

*

 

She found him under the Sakura. Strode over in white Sumeragi robes briefly getting Seishirou's hopes up before he realised his opponent was not the prey he had cast away a month ago, but the sister. Her green eyes burned the way Seishirou had often wished Subaru's would, and she claimed that Seishirou had taken Subaru far away. She claimed to have magic only she could use and challenged him to kill her. Well, if she was asking ...

It was almost, _almost_ like killing Subaru. But not quite.

"I want Subaru to live," Hokuto said, still smiling even as her life bled out. "It's selfish, I know, what with all the death and suffering he'll have to endure, and maybe I'm being arrogant – but still I want Subaru to live. I want you and Subaru to both live."

Seishirou frowned, shifting his head to compensate for his still-new blind eye. "Why me as well? I hurt Subaru-kun, I've killed you—"

"Yeah, I know, it doesn't make sense." She sighed sinking further into his arms, and yet there was still that brightness to her, that spark without which Hokuto wouldn't be Hokuto. "I just ... don't want you to die either. Because despite all the awful things you've done, Sei-chan, I have to admit: I still like you.

"Only Subaru can kill you. And only you can kill Subaru. Now that you've killed me, I can cast this one spell: if you try to kill Subaru the way you've killed me, that blow will reflect back to you."

Her words made no sense, her head was sinking low. Gently Seishirou cradled her so they could keep talking. "Why are you explaining your spell to me?"

"Because it doesn't matter if you know or not. In the end, I just need to trust that the spell will never be used."

She reached up and took his hand, the one that cradled her face. His other hand was buried deep in her chest feeling the dying of her broken heart. "I'm not the kind of man you should trust," he said quietly.

"I know." Her smile grew as somehow she found the strength to touch his cheek. "But Subaru thinks you're special. That's why I want to trust you. Because remember this: there's no crime which can't be forgiven, and there's no such thing as a person who cannot love ... Sei-chan."

Her eyes were closing and she could no longer stop them. Startled as he was by her words Seishirou made himself smile, knowing it would be the last thing she saw as he pulled his killing hand free. Hokuto sank to the ground with her brother's name on her lips, and as the last breath left her, a ball of light appeared from the hole in her chest.

Seishirou's defenses flared. As the ball rose above Hokuto's body it seemed to grow, pulsing like a living thing – with a snarl the Sakura reared trying to snatch at it only to recoil as the light exploded, a supernova in the maboroshi's dark forcing Seishirou to protect what was left of his eyes. When he looked up again, the light was gone.

Shaken, Seishirou got to his feet. Beside him Hokuto lay dead and broken, her brother's white robes stained red beyond repair. Nearby the Sakura rustled, also unsettled, but still demanding its usual due. Seishirou had to calm himself before he reached out to bind Hokuto's spirit, only to find it wasn't there. In that respect, at least, the girl had bested him.

The Sakura hissed. Grimly Seishirou checked himself searching with an expert's eye for any sign of a spell or curse. There was none. He opened himself to the Sakura demanding it too look him over, which it did, thoroughly, twining him with blossoming tendrils seeking out the merest hint of weakness. Again, nothing. Seishirou began to breathe a little easier. Hokuto had been a vibrant, strong-willed girl, but she was no onmyouji. For all her talk about a spell, it seemed to Seishirou that her sacrifice had been in vain. Still, he had to respect her ... bending, Seishirou lifted Hokuto's body in gentle hands and turned to offer it to the Sakura. He thought of all the time they had shared, all the ice-creams and shopping trips and teasing talks with Subaru between them, and as the girl's corpse disappeared, Seishirou bowed his head. "Farewell, Sumeragi Hokuto-chan."

In every memory there was silver laughter. Seishirou imagined Hokuto wouldn't have had it any other way.

 

*

 

Months passed, then years. Seishirou lived them as he wanted, alone, answerable to no one, soon accustomed to his blind eye which was hardly a handicap to his abilities, and taking enjoyment as he liked. The city had something for every taste, from five-star restaurants to street cart snacks, theatres and clubs both high and low, illicit bars and brothels and all sorts of other edges to the glittering diamond that was Tokyo. As one of the sharpest edges Seishirou drew blood where necessary, and where he didn't he shone regardless, untouchable and always ready to strike.

"It's changed things," Okada remarked tiredly over one of their usual dinners. "Perhaps not so much for you and me, but you can see people walking the streets in silent horror. Stunned. They've realised that their world is not as safe as they've always thought."

"The world has never been safe, but people accept a degree of risk as normal – earthquakes, for example. A gas attack on the subway, on the other hand, is not normal, hence the reaction."

"I should have asked you in on it. Even though they were recognised as an official religion, I should have asked you to investigate. At least then I could sit here knowing every option had been explored." Okada sighed; he had always been old to Seishirou, but now he actually looked it. "The end of the world – why on earth would people want that, let alone commit mass murder to hurry it along?"

"Perhaps because they thought they had nothing in this one." He thought of phones speaking with the voices of deluded schoolgirls, and of Subaru trying to shout both spells and sense. Thought also of himself fighting on the Final Day which he now knew was coming, and how little being chosen for that future meant next to the title he already carried. He wondered what kind of person would be strong enough to oppose him and whether he or she would fit the prediction made by his mother and predecessor. "Perhaps they thought in their new world they would be someone special."

He thought of Subaru occasionally. Word had spread that the boy was sworn to kill the Sakurazukamori, which made Seishirou laugh, and sometimes in the middle of an activity or sentence Seishirou would imagine how Subaru would react to it. Other times he would think of Subaru just to wonder about Hokuto's spell, which even if Seishirou didn't believe would work he would be foolish to test just to see. But sparing Subaru a thought was all he did. He certainly hadn't forgotten the Sumeragi's existence, but when it was the Sumeragi's death that was of sole importance the pretty boy's life and what he did with it day to day was of little interest. They would undoubtedly meet again before the end of the world, but until then, Seishirou couldn't be bothered with Sumeragi Subaru.

 

*

 

Work took him to Kyushu once, around Arita. Complaints from a ghost who petitioned the Sakurazukamori about one of the living coercing spirits to commit harm for him. Well, they couldn't have that going on ...

One of the living turned out to be a talented ceramic artist. Obsessed with the perfection of his craft, the artist had channeled his passion into curses against rivals he saw as undermining him, breaking the hands of one and frightening another to insanity. Seishirou stepped in just as the artist was binding a kechibi he intended to trap in a colleague's kiln. A fight ensued, one that did more damage to the artist's own studio than Seishirou's coat as the kechibi was flung about, but soon the screaming fireball was freed and the artist bleeding his soul out on Seishirou's arm. Seishirou left the corpse lying on a floor of broken pottery.

Some months later Seishirou returned to Kyushu for himself, albeit on Okada's suggestion to see the Karatsu festival and make the old man's life easier by leaving Tokyo during the twelfth Sumeragi head's visit. Chance took Seishirou by what had been the studio of the ceramic artist he had killed, which now occupied by another artist. Seishirou found himself admiring her wares, and his attention was particularly caught by a sake cup tucked at the back of the display shelf. "Do you like it?" the new artist asked.

"It is an exquisite piece, however I can already see from the quality of your work that the price may be beyond an impulse buy."

"Actually that one I'm giving away because it's not mine. The cup was originally made by the previous artist in this studio who died recently, and I found it broken when I moved in. Rather than throw out such a fine piece I repaired it as you see, but I'd feel wrong selling it as if it were my creation. Though I'm only giving it to someone who can recognise its worth."

Gently Seishirou picked up the cup. The colour was porcelain white with a translucent glaze that turned to pale blue towards the base. Long fissures ran through its surface dividing the cup into irregular shards. "You repaired it with gold?" he asked, remembering the kill.

"Yes. _Kintsugi_ , turning the damaged and imperfect into art. The aesthetic isn't popular nowadays, but I value the philosophy."

The cracks, expertly joined with a seamless finish, split the white-to-blue ombré like lightning across a clear sky. "Beauty in the broken," Seishirou murmured, "and the moment of destruction captured for all time."

"Exactly." The young artist beamed. "Do you want to take it? I can put it in a box."

"I do, yes." Carefully Seishirou curled fingers around the delicate sake cup and turned with a smile. "Thank you."

 

*

 

1999\. It started quietly for Seishirou who toasted the last new year's eve with sake at home, but as winter turned to spring he began to feel the call. It was time to end the world.

He started by testing the opposition. Some were already active and easy to find, and the young Kamui himself was making no attempt to hide his powers. Seishirou tracked him as others made themselves known, until eventually when several Dragons of Heaven had gathered together patience gave way to mischief. From his hiding place on the Diet's main floor Seishirou unleashed a battle maboroshi into the dreaming princess's chamber, settled back, and watched the chaos unfold. The displays of power from the Koya monk, Ise priestess and inugami mistress were certainly something, but as they were ultimately unsuccessful at breaking free of the maboroshi, also disappointing. As per her role, the dreaming princess did nothing. Seishirou didn't even bother watching the wind-user.

One concentrated blast from the Kamui and the maboroshi shattered like glass. Seishirou had to admit he was impressed.

He tried a second time a while later, this time targeting the Kamui only. At least, that was what he had intended, but when Seishirou brought down his strengthened maboroshi he found that he had inadvertently caught the Kamui's friend as well. Or perhaps, judging by the way the Kamui threw himself in front of her, the blonde girl was more than a friend. She stared at the floating rocks and attacking waves of sakura with wide frightened eyes. "Are you the bastard who pulled that trick under the Diet Building?" the Kamui demanded.

Seishirou smiled as he stepped into view, his identity and power swirling around him in deadly petals. "I am."

The fight that ensued was brief and violent, the explosions of the Kamui's blasts thundering against the roar of sakura and shikigami screams. Seishirou pulled out everything he had; it was so rare he had a chance to unleash his full powers, and the Kamui demanded no less than his absolute focus. Soon he was bleeding, his suit torn and singed, but he was enjoying himself and, significantly, leaving the Kamui as battered as he was. True, the Kamui was hampered by having to protect his pretty friend, but it still thrilled Seishirou to realise that he could seriously challenge the chosen one—

A blast from the Kamui threw Seishirou backwards, knocking away his sunglasses and nearly blinding him. Yet the Kamui, apparently distracted, failed to follow up his attack, something Seishirou with his age and experience knew better than to do and immediately took the opportunity to strike back. Onto his knees the Kamui fell, losing his grip on the girl who slipped over a rock's edge with a terrified cry and fainted even as the Kamui caught her wrist. It was a kind gesture, one that reminded Seishirou of Subaru, but it also meant the Kamui was no longer able to defend himself, and Seishirou was not one to pass up an advantage. With a thought he sent the rocks of the maboroshi hurtling towards the Kamui's head – only for them to stop as someone interrupted.

Seishirou stared. The interruption was a young man, taller than the Kamui but not much older, and he had entered the maboroshi with the ease of stepping through a door to bodily place himself between the Kamui and Seishirou's attack. An attack which was soon melted into clouds of illusory sakura petals leaving Seishirou with an unpleasant tension in his chest. Just who was this interloper?

"Are you all right?" the young man asked the Kamui.

Seishirou did not wait around to find out. Dissolving the maboroshi he wrapped its remains about himself to disappear, bruised and bleeding, seeking rest and further answers. He hadn't won against the Kamui but neither had he lost, and proud as Seishirou was such an outcome was no bad thing against he who wielded power equalling the majesty of the gods. No doubt there would be more battles in the coming days.

A brief investigation afterwards revealed the interloper's name. Monou Fuuma, older brother to the fragile girl the Kamui had bled to protect, eldest son of the Togakushi shrine, and childhood friend to Shirou Kamui. He seemed nice and serious enough, and obviously very protective of his sister and the Kamui – but Seishirou had the uneasy feeling that Monou Fuuma would have another descriptor before long.

 

*

 

Seishirou never wondered why he had been chosen as a Dragon of Earth, because the reasons were obvious: he had power, he cared for nothing, and he had no qualms about killing people. That last was particularly useful when it came to destroying kekkai.

Nakano Sun Plaza was a huge kekkai, but like all kekkai could still be undone by impurity. Seishirou applied that with the help of a passerby in an underground carpark at the kekkai's centre. Once the passerby's blood soaked into the foundation, Seishirou's ofuda amplified the death outwards. By the time the first quakes and screams hit, Seishirou was already outside watching the buildings fall.

He reached into his coat for his cigarettes. A pale blur landed in front of him shining with silver stars. Seishirou felt his breath catch.

_You._

The boy was not as he had remembered. A silly thought, of course Subaru would have grown over the last nine years, but it wasn't just the height, it was _everything._ The short hair. The clothes, white coat over stark black in a plainness that would have offended Hokuto's sensibilities. The ungloved hands clenched into fists. The beautiful eyes guarded and determined. Seishirou deliberately removed his sunglasses and smiled. "Subaru-kun," he greeted cheerfully.

No answer. Only that slightly disconcerting gaze which never wavered from Seishirou's face even as Nakano burned around them. Seishirou, too, barely noticed the destruction as he waited for Subaru to say something, which he didn't, and Seishirou didn't encourage him as he studied boy's new image. His fingers twitched, restless, and he pulled a cigarette out to occupy them.

Subaru stepped forward. Anticipating an attack Seishirou tensed, only Subaru was moving too slow with nothing hidden in his grace except a lighter. A plain, simple lighter that Subaru ignited with a single flick and offered to the tip of Seishirou's cigarette in one steady hand. Seishirou held his surprise like a breath and bowed his head to accept. The contact between them burned. "Thank you," Seishirou murmured.

Still no answer. No smile, either, just a long look that up close Seishirou could finally see the emerald of. It flickered behind cigarette smoke as Subaru saw Seishirou's blind eye, and just like that it all came back: the dinners, Hokuto's teasing, the hospital and knife, Subaru weeping over Seishirou's hand clutched in his small gloved ones. The end of the Bet, the prey then abandoned as worthless standing before the Sakurazukamori after so many years – swiftly Seishirou grabbed Subaru's hand to taste the marks carved into bare flesh, and felt Subaru gasp. "You ... smoke?" asked Seishirou, grip tight as Subaru's fingers trembled in what had to be rage. "It's bad for your health, you know."

The green eyes darkened. Forcefully Subaru twisted free to say, "I've been searching for you for a long time," and oh, that was a lovely voice, like candles burning low in a private room. Seishirou basked in it as he took a drag on his cigarette.

"Why?"

The boy – no, the _young man –_ brought his hands together closing his eyes. Magic swirled around him, not onmyoujitsu but something more abstract, almost cosmic, and when Subaru opened his hands he brought out a star. A pentagram star, one that pulsed and expanded to enclose the two of them and all the destruction of Nakano of walls of light— "To make my Wish reality."

Around them Nakano was unchanged, still burning, still falling, but when Seishirou stretched out his senses he found they were alone. There was not a single screaming survivor to be felt for blocks, not even the spirits of the newly dead. Of course. _Of course._ Sumeragi Subaru was one of the chosen. Subaru was the one to stand opposite Seishirou and fight him at the end of the world. Them, together, Sumeragi and Sakurazukamori, enmity taken to the extreme. Seishirou wanted to laugh at such perfect irony but as usual knew better than to show any weakness. Especially before this person … "A kekkai," he observed. "You're one of the Seven Seals – no, the Sumeragi clan teach it as the Dragons of Heaven. The heavenly warriors who will supposedly save the Earth from its destruction."

Ofuda, white and charged and star-marked, appeared between Subaru's fingers. They fanned out below flat and shadowed eyes. "Do you really think I care about the future of this world?"

Something in Seishirou tensed. That ... did not sound right. The sweet, self-sacrificing Subaru he had known could not have said such words yet they had been said – but before Seishirou remark on it, Subaru attacked him.

" _Fly!_ "

The flung ofuda turned to birds. Magic carried their wings and gleaming claws straight towards Seishirou who felt his breath catch once again because _Subaru had attacked first –_ swiftly he drew his cigarette's glowing tip in front of him just in time for Subaru's birds to crash and die on his shield. Already Subaru was attacking again. This time Seishirou was ready. White birds hurled themselves against black with screams piercing the smoke-filled air, both Sakurazukamori and Sumeragi drawing fresh ofuda as swiftly as the spell-cards burned up with dangerously little time to think. Unlike Seishirou's bout with the Kamui, this was not a battle of raw power. This was a duel, one of onmyoujitsu between two equally powerful masters of the craft, and of mind and spirit. The fight Seishirou had tried so hard to beat out of Subaru under the Sakura was finally unleashed. Seishirou's pulse was racing as he called his shikigami.

The eagle dived and missed. Subaru had leapt away his body curving gracefully above Seishirou. With a yell he threw out another flock of ofuda and Seishirou called back his eagle to defend, only to blink in surprise as the white birds flew not at him but around to fling themselves against the side of a cracking office building. A white pentagram a dozen stories tall appeared and began to glow.

" _On!_ "

A burning light shone down on him. Seishirou was forced to shield his eyes and felt a cut open on his cheek as his eagle shikigami disappeared. But then the light went no further. Lowering his hand, he caught his breath and found himself in a pentagram of glowing walls the floor of which shuddered beneath his shoes. A trap.

"Your Wish ... is it to kill me?" Seishirou raised his voice for Subaru who simply watched him from a building ledge. "The one who killed your dearest sister."

Still Subaru only watched, though the line of his mouth was tight. So yes, then, Subaru wanted to kill him in revenge for Hokuto's death. Understandable, if woefully predictable. Seishirou smiled. "You really are cute, Subaru-kun."

Visibly Subaru twitched and his look hardened into a green glare. Seishirou marvelled at it. "I would play a little longer with you," he said, reaching up to catch the blood now dripping down his cheek, "but I have some business to take care of."

Subaru leaped off the ledge. Using his blood Seishirou drew a symbol on the back of his left hand which he then placed close to the glowing walls making the barrier buckle and bulge. Quickly Subaru clasped his hands chanting a counter-spell to try and push Seishirou back, struggling for dominance – but he had only changed so much. Dominance came to Seishirou as naturally as breathing.

Seishirou's blood-marked hand pushed through Subaru's barrier. Subaru flinched as a wound opened on his chest, but maintained his struggling resistance. When Seishirou sliced the barrier open, Subaru fell to his knees bleeding.

The barrier faded as Seishirou stepped through and out. He stood over Subaru and watched the young man clutch his chest with green eyes glaring up at Seishirou from beneath a fall of sweat-soaked black hair. The young man's cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing harsh and fast. Seishirou couldn't take his eyes off him. Suddenly Subaru flung himself forward with a shout and ofuda in hand – an angry attack, not calculated, so Seishirou easily caught his wrist. Subaru froze, and, without thinking, Seishirou brought his other hand up to clasp Subaru's neck. Hot blood pulsed frantically beneath Seishirou's fingers as he angled his head to focus his seeing eye, his finger leaving a smear of red on Subaru's cheek. It would be the work of a moment to kill him – but then Seishirou remembered Hokuto's last words. He felt Subaru swallow hard.

Seishirou leaned in closer. "So," he said quietly, and his lips warmed with Subaru's breath, "I'll see you soon, then."

He disappeared. Dissolved into clouds of sakura petals before Subaru's eyes, which as well as adding a flair of dramatic also allowed him to circle, invisibly, around Subaru taking one last look before he left. Not completely, since Subaru's great kekkai was still up and Seishirou didn't want to seriously injure or kill him yet, but as Subaru didn't make any move to follow he suspected the kekkai would go down sooner rather than later. Until then, Seishirou withdrew to his maboroshi. There, finally alone, he lay back under the Sakura grinning up into its flowering branches letting what had just happened sink in. His pulse was still racing.

Subaru. The prey marked all those years ago was Seishirou's opposite for the Final Day. In hindsight it seemed so obvious but for the last nine years Seishirou had truly thought that Subaru was too weak to fight to save himself, let alone for the end of the world. To find out otherwise like this wasn't just surprising, it was exhilarating. Add the end of the world to Subaru's right to vengeance, and Seishirou could very well be killed by Subaru – except, according to Setsuka, Seishirou could only be killed by the person he loved most. And for all that Subaru had become far more interesting, Seishirou could still say without hesitation that he did not love him. He didn't love anyone.

 _If you try to kill Subaru the way you've killed me, that blow will reflect back to you._ Even after all these years Seishirou could still hear Hokuto speak those words, her supposed spell, and his grin faded. Closing his eyes he entered a half-trance, inspecting himself, going over every facet of his self and spirit for any sign of curse or weakness. Nothing. He asked the Sakura to look and it did, thoroughly, with branches and blossoms both simmering protectively. Again, nothing. Seishirou doubted that Hokuto had cast a working spell, but in a year when everything was unravelling he couldn't absolutely say it wouldn't work, which begged the next question: whose word would prevail? His friend Hokuto-chan's, or his mother Setsuka's?

It was going to be interesting to find out.

Rested, Seishirou got to his feet. Drew in just a hint of power ready for whatever would greet him outside. But when he took down the maboroshi, Subaru was gone.

 

*

 

The disaster at Nakano had stopped all train lines and other transport, so Seishirou had to walk home. It was an enjoyable exercise, one that left plenty of space for thoughts and a cigarette while reminiscing of other times he had walked around Tokyo with a pair of green-eyed twins, but then just as the sun was going down, something happened. Someone screamed.

Sharply Seishirou looked up. The scream wasn't physical, it was psychic, reverberating in Seishirou's mind like a shockwave, and with it came the knowledge, fundamental and absolute, that a choice had been made and there was no going back _._ A little while later, there came a second mental sound. A command.

_Come._

 

*

They were all here. Seven Dragons of Earth and their Dreamseer. He himself had arrived last, partly so as to see those who passed first, partly to make an entrance. It had paid off and he introduced himself with his title meeting the eyes that warily assessed him with a smile beneath his sunglasses. Some figures he already knew by reputation. Kanoe the Dreamseer with her seductive dresses and dark, appreciative gaze. Yatouji Satsuki trailing ennui and computer cords. The rumoured existence of the Dreamgazer now confirmed and named even if Kuzuki Kakyou wasn't one for talking. Those he didn't know soon identified themselves: Shiyuu Kusanagi with his soldier's bearing looked uncomfortable in this cold cavern of metal and wires; Kigai Yuuto had been perfectly, distantly polite; Kanoe had introduced the expressionless bioroid Nataku – now there was a wonder of modern technology – before bringing out the last—

Seishirou stared. What was Subaru doing here under the government building?  
  
No, he corrected himself quickly, the person stepping from the shadows was not Subaru, it was the young man who days earlier had broken into Seishirou's maboroshi interrupting his skirmish with the Kamui. The same young man but now very, very different, all sharp edges and dark, cold arrogance. He radiated power the likes of which Seishirou had only seen from the Kamui which meant – ah. This was the Kamui's opposing star. This was the Kamui of the Dragons of Earth.

He looked nothing like Subaru.

Keeping up his smile Seishirou watched as this second Kamui made his rounds of the group as if this were some private networking event instead of a gathering of those who would destroy humanity. He himself stood aloof from the rest - for all that he was a Dragon of Earth he was, first and foremost, the Sakurazukamori and didn't need let alone want to be part of any 'team'. He was here simply as a courtesy and for his own curiosity, with no intention of lingering—

"The Sakurazukamori. The assassin who uses onmyoujitsu to kill." Striding over from Kusanagi the second Kamui stopped before Seishirou with a smile but not the customary bow. "It's good to have a man of such power and heritage with us. Do you have a name to go with the title?"

The young man was nearly as tall as himself, Seishirou noted guardedly, and up close his power was almost blazing. Seishirou wasn't stupid enough to challenge it but neither would he bend his knee. "Sakurazuka Seishirou," he replied pleasantly, also not bowing. "And you are – or at least were – Monou Fuuma."

"I am /Kamui/." The young man's eyes glittered into Seishirou's sunglasses. "I noticed how you stared earlier. Something wrong?"

"It's not every day I meet one who hunts the majesty of the gods." Still the /Kamui/ studied him, piercing and direct. Seishirou refused to be intimidated. "I just thought you looked like someone, that's all."

The /Kamui's/ smile widened.

  
*

 

He forgot that moment. For a little while.

 

*

 

Summer came. Tokyo picked up the pieces from the Kamuis' awakening and moved on unaware that the quiet was but a respite. Seishirou enjoyed the calm for what it was, lingering in his favourite haunts, doing his work away from the other Dragons of Earth, and finding his own respite from the heat on the windswept tops of buildings where like the raptors his shikigami took after he could watch the world below. He watched his targets, he watched people passing on the street, he watched those involved with End of the World at least when he could see them. Some were easier to find than others.

He could always find Subaru.

As if making up for the past nine years Seishirou watched Subaru almost daily. How Subaru went from job to job never smiling, never resting, never taking pride in his work. How he avoided the stream of phone messages left by his grandmother and filled his dim apartment – which Seishirou curiously sneaked into once or thrice – with cigarette smoke. How the other Seals, particularly the younger ones living together on CLAMP campus, insisted on making Subaru come out to spend time with them until eventually he was cajoled into joining the campus college and from there folded into the routine of illusory normal life they had constructed. How the Kamui, over a series of tutoring sessions, finally managed to get Subaru to show something resembling a smile.

Seishirou remembered Subaru's proper smiles, shy and full making his whole face glow. In comparison the smiles the Kamui saw from Subaru were but ghosts, never extending any further than the corners of his mouth let alone to his eyes. Certainly the Kamui never saw Subaru's emerald eyes shine the way Seishirou had.

Seishirou realised that that thought pleased him. Subaru was  _kintsugi_ , all the more beautiful for having been broken. Only Seishirou knew what Subaru had been before, and thus only Seishirou could truly appreciate what Subaru had become. What Seishirou had made him become.

Such thoughts made the Sakura rustle uneasily. Seishirou waved it off saying soon nothing would matter, because the world would end. And so the summer passed.

 

*

 

"I haven't seen much of you, Sakurazukamori."

Seated on the bright café terrace Seishirou deliberately didn't look up from his newspaper as a shadow fell over the table. "I didn't realise we were expected to report in," he replied calmly.

"You're not. But I don't expect you drop off the radar either." Ignoring his lack of invitation the /Kamui/ pulled out the empty chair opposite Seishirou and sat down sprawling. Despite the late summer heat he was dressed in close-fitting, almost militaristic black including a high-necked coat and heavy boots. The other café patrons – businessmen for most part, most dressed in light suits just as Seishirou was – were casting curious looks probably wondering what a teen goth-type was doing in Ginza instead of Harajuku. "So what have you been up to?"

"I'm searching for Tokyo's best coffee," said Seishirou, keeping his tone bland as he warily watched his unexpected companion from the cover of dark sunglasses. The /Kamui/ wore an icy smile that barely held back the awesome power he was radiating, but there was also a childlike exuberance to him that reminded Seishirou of Subaru back in the day. "This café comes particularly recommended for its expert Italian barista, though there's another café in Ueno which in my opinion is even better. But what about you? What has he who hunts the majesty of the gods been keeping himself busy with?"

"Exploring. This city is so full of people and life and wishes, I wanted to see as much as possible before everything falls. Hey, get me one of whatever he's having," the /Kamui/ ordered cheerfully, waving at a passing wait-person.

"Not setting off earthquakes, then?"

"Not yet."

"Oh?" Seishirou raised the newspaper so that the relevant headline (Ikebukuro Earthquake – Level 4 – Epicentre Uncertain) showed across the table. "So this one yesterday was natural?"

"Oh,  _that_. Just a side-effect of Yatouji's cyber-jaunt, I had nothing to do with it other than mentioning it would be good to have Nataku's life-support data on hand. Also I was bored which I'm sure you'll understand." The icy smile broadened. "Three months of quiet is more than enough, don't you think?"

"I see." Seishirou met the smile with a sharp one of his own. "I take it that things will be starting soon, then."

"That's right, summer holidays are about to end. You'd better keep away from Ikebukuro from now on. Ah, coffee," the /Kamui/ added as a steaming white cup and saucer was placed on the table. He raised the cup to his lips and sipped. "Mm, very nice. You've got good taste, Sakurazukamori."

"It's important to enjoy the simple things in life."

"Wise words in this day and age. By the way, you're paying."

 

*

 

He had been watching Subaru when Ikebukuro's Sunshine 60 began to shake. The psychic disturbance from that great kekkai's linchpin had reverberated in his mind like a drum beat, though Seishirou kept his presence of mind so that his shikigami didn't call out revealing its presence to Subaru. Not that Subaru would have noticed. The moment the Sumeragi realised what was happening he dropped his groceries and took off making a beeline for Ikebukuro.

Seishirou followed with his shikigami. At the same time, he found the highest vantage point possible that gave a view of the skyline and the Sunshine 60. Just like always Subaru's instinct when there was trouble was to run and help, but unlike the hurt souls encountered during the year of the Bet, this was a battle for the end of the world. Remembering the strength with which Subaru had fought him at Nakano, Seishirou was interested to see how his prey would fare.

He did well, very well, in fact. While the /Kamui/ had trapped his opposite Subaru erected his star-shaped kekkai without hesitation placing all bystanders out of harm's way, at least for the moment. Seishirou's shikigami, being spirit not flesh, was not affected and easily found a discrete far perch to watch as Subaru faced off against the genderless Nataku. The bioroid fought gracefully but dispassionately; Subaru in contrast was effective determination, and, when he sent a fiery blast at Nataku, unflinching with his power.

Seishirou remembered a different Subaru at Sunshine 60. A Subaru who had run up to him flustered and panting, green eyes wide with distress and lips full of apologies for his tardiness. Seishirou had made him blush talking about being on a date, and again even more at the affinity test by saying, "I love you." It hadn't been a lie for the character Seishirou had been playing then, and Subaru hadn't taken it seriously anyway. Idly Seishirou spared a thought for the penguins now trapped in their aquarium tanks as the battle raged.

Then the /Kamui/ stepped in. Seishirou's interest in the fight was no longer idle. Through his shikigami he watched as Subaru caught the /Kamui/ in a smaller kekkai similar to how he had caught Seishirou back at Nakano, watched as Subaru fought to hold it. Seishirou realised he was holding his breath. Subaru was strong but against he who hunted the majesty of the gods—

The /Kamui/ said something Seishirou's shikigami couldn't catch and flexed his power. Subaru's kekkai shattered. Seishirou shook his head – _what happened to your focus, Subaru-kun? –_  watching as the Sumeragi collapsed bleeding from a dozen places but still very much alive as he has to be to face Seishirou on the Final Day. Hopefully Subaru would learn from this battle—

The /Kamui/ approached Subaru and kicked him over. Reached down to grip his hair lifting his head, other arm raised like a spear. Subaru barely struggled, seemed to whisper words the /Kamui/ answered none of which Seishirou's shikigami could hear – and then the /Kamui/ stabbed down. Into Subaru's right eye.

Chaos drowned the shikigami's screech as Subaru dropped unconscious and weeping blood. Standing on his vantage point Seishirou couldn't breathe – how _dare_ he, how dare the /Kamui/ touch what was clearly marked as the Sakurazukamori's prey – the great star-shaped kekkai was beginning to dissolve, a sign that Subaru was close to death and Seishirou's hands tensed into fists. If Subaru died, if the Sakurazukamori's prey was killed by someone else – he had to get the /Kamui/ away from Subaru, but before he could send his shikigami down to try doing so, someone else did it for him.

An incredible burst of power exploded from the /Kamui's/ opposite, the boy who until now had done little but snivel while pinned down under Nataku's guard. The attack shook what was left of the Sunshine 60's supports sending the /Kamui/ leaping away and shredding Seishirou's shikigami. Seishirou brought his consciousness back to his body with only seconds to spare.

Wind on his face. Seishirou opened his eyes wondering at his racing pulse. Just before the horizon the Sunshine 60 was collapsing in fire and smoke taking the Ikebukuro kekkai with it. Even from such a distance Seishirou could hear its death throes – but it wasn't that he was concerned with. In his mind he could sense the brands on Subaru's hands moving with lightning speed, and knew even without seeing that the Kamui of the Dragons of Heaven was rushing Subaru to a hospital. The thought came with a feeling of overwhelming relief.

Sirens wailed in the air below. Grimly Seishirou drew an illusion about himself and headed in the direction the Kamui had taken Subaru.

 

*

 

He watched the hospital the whole night. During that time, the Kamui never left Subaru's side. Seishirou resented that and spent hours mentally willing the Kamui to up and leave. He resented even more what the other /Kamui/ had done.

Subaru's right eye had been blinded.

It began to rain. The Kamui was still by Subaru's bedside. Frustrated, Seishirou went home, for rest, a change of clothes, to brood. Despite the Sakura's disagreement he returned to his vantage point in the still-wet morning – but this time there was already someone there.

"You were watching at Ikebukuro, weren't you," said the /Kamui/. Casually. Like he hadn't damaged that which was not his. He stood above on the struts in that flowing dark coat with rain dripping into eyes which looked down on Seishirou with obvious amusement.

Seishirou imagined taking out those eyes one by one as payback. But even if he had a chance of defeating the /Kamui/ it would not heal the mark that had been left on his prey. "So you noticed," he replied, removing his rain-streaked sunglasses and giving the /Kamui/ an easy smile. Refusing to rise to the bait.

"Heh." The /Kamui/ leaped down from his perch so that he and Seishirou were on level ground. "It seems you and that Dragon of Heaven are related in some way."

"We made a foolish bet some time ago," Seishirou said dismissively, pulling out his cigarettes which at least kept his hands from throttling the /Kamui/. Still the /Kamui/ watched him steadily, even contemplatively. The kind of gaze Seishirou was used to giving to others. He would be damned before he gave the /Kamui/ the satisfaction of seeing him affected, but. "Cigarette? Though perhaps it's not the best idea to offer one to a teenager."

"Well." The /Kamui/ stepped forward so that he was smiling inches from Seishirou's face. His two eyes seemed full of light. "It's not as if you give a damn about me, right?"

Two eyes. Light eyes. The eyes that had looked at Seishirou at Nakano above a cigarette lighter. _It was Subaru who stood before him speaking those words._

Seishirou blinked. The person before him turned and suddenly it was the /Kamui/ again, grinning over his shoulder through the grey rain. Shaken, Seishirou lit his cigarette every instinct on highest alert. Had that moment been his imagination? Or was it another, more insidious part of the /Kamui's/ abilities— "It was that Dragon of Heaven's wish to lose his right eye the same way you did," the /Kamui/ said, almost bored as he leaned against the nearby wall, "however his _true_ Wish is something only you can realise for him. And—" Seishirou flinched as the /Kamui/ lunged like a cobra to snatch the cigarette from his lips, "—his _true_ Wish is different to what you think it is."

Seishirou didn't dare reply. With a grin the /Kamui/ leaped away with a flick of dark coat, flying away over the Shinjuku rooftops through the rain. Seishirou watched him go just to make sure the young man wasn't coming back. Then he took out his cigarettes once more and lit one with uneasy, narrowed eyes.

Subaru's Wish had be to kill him. Seishirou had betrayed him, beaten Subaru almost to death, and killed Subaru's beloved twin sister, so what else could Subaru want other than vengeance? Yet the /Kamui/, whose full powers Seishirou was still yet to grasp, had been so smug in declaring that Subaru's Wish was something else. How had he known that Seishirou had lost his eye because of Subaru?  And what the hell had been that trick of his making himself look like Subaru?

The rain grew heavier. An observation through his shikigami revealed that the Kamui had been joined by other Dragons of Heaven. Seishirou's fingers curled around his cigarette pack. Eventually, the other Dragons of Heaven left taking Kamui with them, but leaving Subaru awake. Only in the early afternoon, after lunch and a check-up, did the Sumeragi finally fall asleep. Dropping his empty cigarette pack into a bin Seishirou quietly leaped across the rooftops to the hospital, opened an emergency exit, and made his way to Subaru's room. His coat dripped water onto the hospital floor.

Subaru's room was dim from the rain streaking down the window, and cold as well. There were no other patients in the room, fortunately, allowing Seishirou to move with impunity. A stool imprinted by the Kamui sat near Subaru's bed, and there were flowers in a vase on the bedside table. A single push from Seishirou's foot shoved the stool into a corner, and then he and Subaru were alone.

He sat on the edge of Subaru's bed knowing through past experience how deeply his prey could sleep. Particularly in times like now, injured and heart-sore with a bandage around his head almost exactly matching the one Seishirou himself had worn nine years ago, in this very hospital in fact. Seishirou didn't have to imagine what the injury looked like. The emerald of Subaru's right eye was gone forever. A mark left by someone who was not Seishirou.

His chest was tight. Wondering how well the doctors had done their work Seishirou's hand found the side of Subaru's face where it fitted as easily as it always had during the year of the Bet. Vulnerable. Oblivious. Warm. It would be so easy to kill him now, but then Subaru turned his lips into Seishirou's palm.

Seishirou jerked his hand back. Frowning, Subaru shifted in his sleep and muttered something too low to hear. Seishirou told himself that he had seen enough and left.

 

*

 

Seishirou didn't spend much time with the other Dragons of Earth. He certainly didn't want to spend much time with the /Kamui/, the one Dragon more powerful than Seishirou which naturally made him someone to be wary of. And yet the /Kamui/ had a habit of turning up wherever Seishirou was eating out around Tokyo, apparently for no other reason than to test Seishirou's patience especially by looking like Subaru. Not constantly, and never for long, but it happened far too often to be chance or imagination until eventually Seishirou had had enough. "Why do you do that," he demanded.

"Hm?"

"You know what I'm talking about. It's a strange trick of yours that doesn't serve any real purpose. Why do you look like him."

The /Kamui/ smiled innocently and got up from the ramen stand. "You tell me, 'Seishirou-san'." And he left.

After that Seishirou did the next best thing which was to try and ignore the /Kamui/, just as he was ignoring the hospital Subaru was still in. He had far more success at the latter than the former, but then on one of his rare visits below the government building where Kanoe kept court with the /Kamui/, Seishirou noticed Nataku watching the /Kamui/ with a yearning expression. When Seishirou commented on it, the bioroid replied it was because the /Kamui/ looked like its father. Well, that was interesting ...

Discretely Seishirou raised the question with some of the others. Satsuki likened the /Kamui's/ smile to Kigai Yuuto. Kigai Yuuto said that the /Kamui/ sometimes made him think of Satsuki, something about how neither of them cared for other people. Kusanagi said that the /Kamui's/ restless energy reminded him of a young friend. "But it makes my skin crawl," the soldier added darkly, leaning against the elevator's wall. "It's like that guy threw away his own self and now can only be 'someone else' depending on who's looking. Why, who does he remind you of?"

"No one of consequence." His sunglasses made it easy to ignore the eyebrow Kusanagi raised. "When are you going to take down a kekkai?"

Kusanagi let out a hissed breath. "I don't see the need for all these opening fireworks. The Final Day is set, so I'll fight when that time comes. Until then, I'm enjoying what beauty is left in this dying world." The elevator stopped to discharge them back into government building's lobby. "You should try the same."

Seishirou refused to be moved by anything other than his own will, but the soldier did have a point. Late that night, Seishirou found himself returning to Shinjuku Hospital.

There was a small bunny doll on Subaru's bedside table. Seishirou briefly wondered who had left it before sitting once again on the edge of Subaru's bed. Deep in slumber, the young man didn't stir as Seishirou touched his cheek.

Thin. Stark. Yet despite the shadowed hurts there was something achingly exquisite about Subaru. The cherubic beauty Seishirou had often imagined violating during the year of the Bet was now spare like calligraphy, and the bandage over his eye added a fragile air. Kintsugi. Beauty in the broken. For all the damage the /Kamui/ had done, Subaru was still a work of art. Seishirou wondered what he dreamed of, and what he Wished for.

Minutes passed in silence. Subaru shifted in his sleep pressing closer into Seishirou's hand. This time Seishirou did not move, and made himself leave only when Subaru eventually turned away.

 

*

 

Seishirou returned to the hospital often after that. He deliberately forbid himself from doing much, just touching and enjoying the warmth of Subaru's sleeping presence, at least until the Shinjuku kekkai went down. The work of Satsuki and her computer, along with the /Kamui/ who knocked out the other Kamui for good measure. Seishirou lingered long enough to make sure that his prey was taken to safety in the hospital evacuation, and sat out the rest in Ueno Park. Even from there Seishirou could feel the shockwaves of Shinjuku's fall, but the Sakura's roots went deep.

Shinjuku's destruction overwhelmed the already straining hospitals. Still bandaged but otherwise whole, Subaru was soon discharged and moved to the house of the Seals in CLAMP Campus where Seishirou could not follow. Although working his way past the wards was possible doing so without being noticed was another thing, and in the end all Seishirou could safely do was send his shikigami to observe from a distance. What it saw was Subaru by the injured Kamui's bedside, holding his hand and waiting for the boy to wake.

_Did you do that for me? When I lost my eye, did you take my hand and guard my sleep? Why for him?_

Such were the thoughts stalking through Seishirou while he watched, chest tight as if clamped with burning wire. Hokuto had said in her dying breaths that Subaru had thought Seishirou special, but Seishirou remembered how Subaru made _everyone_ special, and therefore no one. The Kamui wasn't any different, he told himself – but this was no longer the Subaru Seishirou had courted during the Bet. This was Subaru who had repaired himself after Seishirou's breaking, who claimed not to care about the future of the world, and the Kamui was, by his very nature, special. The burning wires drew tighter. More than once the Sakura sounded alarmed, but curiously, when Seishirou asked, it also seemed resigned and would not elaborate.

His kills became escapes. Seeking release, Seishirou took his next few victims with increased violence, and, as a failed attack on the Yamanote Line was soon followed by a successful attack on Ebisu, with increased urgency. Even then he kept an eagle eye out helplessly watching how Subaru spoke with the Kamui, how fitfully he slept at night, and wandered the broken streets of Tokyo in the day. His prey, working to bring what ease he could as he always had during their year, only now the ghosts of traumatised dead were legion. Seishirou viciously added another knowing it would go unnoticed in the chaos of the devastated city. Almost unnoticed. "Did the job go well?" the /Kamui/ asked.

Breath slowing, Seishirou glanced up. The /Kamui/ intruded on a billboard above him, a fresh ice-cream cone in hand as he looked down on Seishirou and the streets of Shibuya beyond. Even as Seishirou watched the /Kamui's/ face flickered, and despite himself Seishirou gave a smile beneath his sunglasses. "Oh, yes. Do you have business in Shibuya too?"

"Since Nataku failed to destroy the Yamanote earlier, I'm here to finish the job." Lightly Subaru – no, the /Kamui/ jumped down to join Seishirou on the roof. "And you splashing that building with blood has saved me some time."

Seishirou didn't move as the earth cracked and roared with enough force to split roads and rip into the 109 Building. If he just imagined ... "Mm, this choc-chip is good," the young man said contentedly, licking his ice-cream. "Want some?"

He thought of ice-creams on Tokyo Tower, of giving Subaru a dripping multi-flavoured cone and allowing Hokuto to steal bites of his. _I-it'd be weird if I did something like that— Don't be an idiot, in times like this it's perfectly natural for lovers—_ "Why not."

He leaned in to taste. Clasped the wrist that offered it with his clean hand and pretended.

Fire and smoke and terror from the streets below. Seishirou straightened and let go. "It's delicious," he said, smiling. "Which ice-cream shop?"

"A little place in Shibuya. Though it's impossible to eat there now." Subaru smiled back and ate into the ice-cream in a way that made Seishirou's groin constrict. "There's another store in Meijiro, would you like to go there next time?"

"It's a good idea." _That sounds like some kind of grand eating tour! Where's the romance in that!_ "Especially before the world ends."

"Ah, but it may be difficult to get there with the Yamanote down." The roof shuddered beneath them forcing Seishirou to shift his balance, and when he glanced back the young man was the /Kamui/ once more looking at Seishirou with cold, laughing eyes. "So can you name it yet? Your trapped feeling."

Even with the growing fires Seishirou felt chilled. "Does it matter?" he countered, stepping back.

"Not really. Since you wouldn't do anything anyway, what with your pride and all. You can't even bring yourself to visit when you can be seen, let alone face to face." Mockingly the /Kamui/ raised his ice-cream in a toast through the screams and smoke. "And now you're running out of time."

 

*

 

Time. Seishirou could feel it leaking through his fingers like sand with every kekkai that fell turning the city to rubble. The restaurants and food carts he so liked were gone, clubs and theatres crushed, and any bars or brothels left standing were deserted. The Sakura stood silent in a wasteland; Tokyo was now populated by ghosts.

Seishirou brooded. Realising he had gone his entire life without truly wanting anything let alone anyone, he wondered what it meant that he now did, especially for the two foretellings hanging over his head. For all that he had accepted he would probably die on the Final Day he wanted to do so on his own terms, proud and unbowed, answering to no one to the very end. And yet there was Subaru. Subaru in the /Kamui's/ face, Subaru in the Seals' house, and constantly in Seishirou's mind. He fantasised, thought of the Bet and all those days in Tokyo when it was full of life and opportunities, some of which Seishirou had taken and some he had not. For the first time, he found himself regretting. With only Tokyo Tower left, on the night before the Final Day Seishirou made his way to CLAMP Campus.

The wards on the Seals' house were strong, but not impermeable. Seishirou used the resonance of his marks on Subaru's hands to slide wrapped in shadow between the layers of shields, and once inside made his way through the sleeping house to Subaru's bedroom. The door was unlocked; letting himself in, Seishirou locked it behind him. Moonlight streaked through a gap in the curtains revealing a desk neatly covered with onmyoujitsu equipment: blank ofuda paper, calligraphy ink sticks and brushes, a wrapped dagger, a bottle of purified oil for the tiny reverence lamp Seishirou knew Subaru used in meditation. Subaru himself slept in a bed just beyond the moonlight's reach.

Carefully Seishirou sat on the edge of the bed. The young man slept uneasily, brow strained and fingers tight. His right eye was still bandaged giving an edge to the ache in Seishirou's chest, and that decided it. Placing a hand on Subaru's head Seishirou began to softly chant. The walls of the room wavered like rising heat as Subaru's unconscious took hold, and then they were alone.

Glittering lights lit up a black sea sectioned into windows by vertical girders. The floor beneath Seishirou's feet was a tiled island, the desk had become a discarded backpack, and the bed was now a set of elevator doors in front of which stood Subaru wearing grey pajamas and a look of wonder. "Beautiful," he breathed.

Hidden in illusion Seishirou tensed. Tuning his maboroshi to Subaru's dreaming self was safer than Seshirou going Within and leaving his body vulnerable, but not without its own risks. If Subaru realised he wasn't in his own dreamscape ... barefoot, Subaru ran past Seishirou to lean over the edge of the floor and look out with his seeing eye. "So high – look, you can see Rainbow Bridge all the way over there. And all the city lights twinkling like stars just as Kazue-san said ..." Suddenly Subaru turned to smile directly at Seishirou. "Thank you for suggesting that we come up here, Seishirou-san."

The smile was open and radiant. Actual happiness, not the ghost Seishirou had seen Subaru give the Kamui. It made no sense how Subaru could smile and see him, but then it clicked. Tokyo Tower, the actress who had committed suicide, Subaru sleeping in his lap— "It's my pleasure," Seishirou replied, pitching his voice for warmth. "You know how much I like to please you."

Subaru blushed bright against his bandage. "Y-you do?"

"Of course." Seishirou smiled as he came forward to join Subaru at the floor's edge, his old role coming back with surprising ease. "I like how your face lights up. I like having you near. I like seeing you see me."

"Why?"

"Because you're mine. You've always been mine."

"… I—"

"Obviously I'm not such a fool that I'd expect you to feel the same. Yes I'm a man and you're a boy, it just happened that the person I've fallen for is a boy but ..." He placed a hand on the window beside Subaru's head fumbling for more words from their year as he leaned in. "Subaru-kun, do you think I'm sexy?"

The old joke. The old tease. Subaru breath was very still as he met Seishirou's smile with old green eyes. Eye. Unseeing and yet unsettlingly clear. "Yes," Subaru said, and pulled him down. Flinching Seishirou was about to attack when Subaru kissed him.

Hot. Urgent. Seishirou's eyes were wide; he had expected to seduce, even rape, not this, himself claimed ... he kissed back, fierce, hearing a soft sound fall from Subaru's lips as they opened in a plea that made questions irrelevant. Closing his eyes, Seishirou wrapped an arm around Subaru's waist and moved in. Subaru kissed clumsily but insistently, without self-preservation as he lined his body against Seishirou's, already rocking with need. Dimly Seishirou wondered whether Subaru had done this before, how often, with who ... with a growl he pressed harder, demanding a yielding which came immediately as Subaru leaned back under his weight, for a moment seeming to send them tumbling off the platform's edge into the glittering city. They hit glass, cold even in this living dreamscape and Seishirou trapped Subaru there one hand already sliding beneath grey cloth. Subaru made no effort to resist, had twined his own hands in Seishirou's hair as if to urge him on. Roughly Seishirou turned and shoved him chest against the window fingers seeking heat and finding it making desire violently spike. Subaru moaned.

Something flickered. Distracted, Seishirou lifted his mouth from Subaru's neck to see Tokyo's mass of tiny lights gathering into a web of rivulets flowing into streams which in turn joined rivers. They formed huge glowing lines that sinuously twisted across the now-dark city far below. No, not lines, cracks. Cracks in the shape of dragons.

With effort Seishirou made himself pause. Turned Subaru again so that they faced each other. For all that Subaru's dreaming self seemed prepared to let Seishirou do anything Seishirou wanted no reminder of tomorrow, or anything else for that matter, to interrupt. "Subaru-kun. Subaru-kun, look at me." The unbandaged eye opened vaguely and only now did Seishirou wonder whether Subaru was seeing him whole or half blind, and at how the thought of the former made his chest clench. "I want you," he said lowly, stroking the young man's cheek, "but we'll enjoy it much more somewhere comfortable. I know a place nearby, can you let me take you there?"

He could hear dragons roaring, distant and chilling, an undercurrent of despair given voice. Seishirou made sure to hold Subaru's attention with his veterinarian's smile. "Yes," Subaru whispered, and again the darkness flickered. " _Yes_."

"Keep your eyes on me." Already the maboroshi was warping and Seishirou mentally caught it, taking back control and spinning his magic ... the observation platform became plain walls with a window looking out onto a moonless night. The backpack was once again a desk, and the bed too had returned as reality mixed with memory shaping the apartment above the clinic. In his dreaming state Subaru didn't question the change in scenery, and held Seishirou's gaze with a focus that made breath stop. Did Subaru often dream of him like this, despite everything that had happened? "That's better. No, don't look away, keep your eyes on me, and only me." He leaned in feeling Subaru's breath tremble on his chin. "I don't want you seeing anything else."

He kissed Subaru gently to begin with, easing him open once more with lips and tongue. Subaru yielded with one slim hand fisting in Seishirou's coat. Already he was hard and Seishirou used that, pushing his thigh between Subaru's legs and tasting his gasp. To think that the naïve boy he had broken and ignored for so many wasted years had become this pliant creature, hot-blooded and begging for ravishment ... deepening the kiss Seishirou pushed Subaru towards the bed retaining just enough presence of mind to snatch the oil bottle from the desk as they passed. A shove had Subaru on the mattress, the bottle went on the side table, and then Seishirou could unwrap his prize. The pajamas came away with gratifying ease.

Seishirou looked down at the young man sprawled before him. Subaru's pale skin was flushed, his chest rising and falling like one half-drowned, and the shaft between his legs stood up in yearning, an achingly beautiful sight that fired Seishirou's own arousal with the exception of one thing: the bandage around the right eye. A crack, harsh and glaring, only this crack could not be repaired with gold. The more Seishirou looked it at the more he burned – but he couldn't draw attention to it, not with Subaru dreaming himself back to happier times. Instead, Seishirou made himself smile into Subaru's remaining eye and shrugged off first his coat, then his suit jacket before easing off his shoes and loosening his tie— "Let me," Subaru whispered, stretching one hand out, "please, let me."

Such a pretty asking. Courteously Seishirou leaned over the bed so that Subaru could pull the tie free with gentle fingers. It dropped to the floor in silence, and then Subaru's shaking fingers were undoing his collar sending an electric thrill through Seishirou as he felt the Sumeragi's touch against his throat. It moved down over his chest parting his shirt making Seishirou again wonder if Subaru had done this before, or if it was all the freedom of fantasy – but then Subaru's fingers were on his belt and none of those wonderings seemed to matter. Pushing his trousers off he watched Subaru's flush deepen before resuming the kiss, control giving way to hunger, his body moving over Subaru until they rocked full-length against each other, him in domination, Subaru groaning and opening mouth, body, and soul. The heart Seishirou had so often imagined stopping was pounding like a caged bird desperate for release that only he could give, in more ways than one. Reaching for the bottle he oiled his fingers before running them down the lines of Subaru's body, deliberately seeking, feeling, and then pressing within. He smiled as the young man froze wide-eyed against him. "Do you like?" Seishirou murmured, and took the whimper that followed as yes. "Relax," he added, pressing deeper, gently, feeling heat and tension giving with the sudden knowledge that this experience was wholly new for Subaru, that Seishirou would be the first and only one to do this to him but come morning would be remembered only as echoes, the images and sensations presumed to be dreams and just as insubstantial – he felt Subaru quake on the pivot point of pain and pleasure and there Seishirou lingered, easing Subaru until he was inexorably tipped towards the latter, then Seishirou no longer had patience for gentleness. Placing Subaru's legs against his shoulders, Seishirou took hold of himself and pushed in.

Subaru cried out. Dizzily Seishirou heard it disappear into the maboroshi's emptiness, the illusion of his old apartment fading out leaving only the bed and piercing need. So tight, so hot, but very much not enough – growling, he pushed again, feeling Subaru shudder and reshape around him, the green eye wild as Seishirou began to rhythmically move. His breathing became harsher, came out almost serrated as he finally found the deepest part of Subaru who moaned with each hard thrust, legs clasping tight around Seishirou, the two of them shaking in the smell of sweat and sex. No room for thought now, not their past, not the Final Day, there was just the heat and friction and ecstasy and the two of them joined for these few burning, brilliant moments – dimly he saw Subaru's expression crack, body trembling to the bone as dampness spread between them with a desperate cry, but that was irrelevant against his own urgency. Faster. More. Again and again. Subaru his entirely. _Always._

Seishirou closed his eyes and saw the world explode.

He came back to himself on Subaru's chest. It moved steadily, like waves under a calm sunset, and there was a hand stroking his hair. Soothing. Intimate. Them, curled together in the infinite dark, the pleasure from each other lingering in their flesh. He couldn't see the bandage from this angle. "You snore," Subaru murmured.

"Do I now."

"Just a little. It's only because you're so close that I can hear it." There was a smile in Subaru's voice. "Hokuto-chan is going to tease us in the morning."

He saw a flash of white robes stained crimson in the darkness beyond the bed. Heard once more in his mind the girl's supposed spell, and on its heels, his mother's last words. "Let her tease," Seishirou replied, lifting himself to turn Subaru's face. "For now, rest."

Firmly he placed a kiss on Subaru's smile feeling it fade as the spell took hold. When Seishirou pulled away Subaru was asleep. For a while he lingered, enjoying the feel of Subaru's skin against his and deliberately not allowing his thoughts to go beyond that, but it could not last. Even in the maboroshi he could feel time marching. He got up. Pulled his clothes on first before using his handkerchief to clean Subaru as best he could. Redressing him in pajamas took longer but gave Seishirou a last chance to touch, gently, running his palms over the rough bandage, his marks, and Subaru's cooling skin before grey cloth and quilt covered once more. He wondered how much of the supposed dream Subaru would remember.

The moonlight, once the maboroshi was down, had moved from the desk to halfway up the wall. By its light Seishirou took one sweep of the bedroom making sure nothing was forgotten and all things back as if he had never been. Then, with one last look at Subaru, he unlocked the door and silently left.

 

*

 

"Get it out of your system?"

The /Kamui/ was grinning. Seishirou ignored it as he flicked his cigarette into the shadows of what had been Ueno's streets, the corpses of buildings black against the night sky. "Taking a walk?" he countered.

"Just a stroll. I've never seen so many stars before." Casually the /Kamui/ came forward, looking up with hands in the pockets of his coat. "What do you think will come afterwards?"

"Does it matter? You're probably the only one who will see it."

"Maybe. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Liar. You don't even know what your own Wish is." The grin faded as the /Kamui/ glanced beyond Seishirou down the direction from which he had come. "But you're not the only one."

Seishirou did not bid farewell as the /Kamui/ left. Only afterwards did he realise that for once during their exchange the /Kamui/ had not looked like Subaru. The realisation gnawed as he continued his interrupted walk to the Sakura.

The Sakura was no longer bothering with its illusion of normalcy, and stood proud and full in the pre-dawn as a single, ironic point of life among the ruins of Ueno Park. If any earthquake refugees had thought they could take shelter beneath its branches they'd soon learned otherwise; indeed, the earth around it smelled richly of blood. Bowing, Seishirou placed his hand and forehead against the trunk as flowers brushed his hair. _Why haven't you said anything?_ he asked.

 _The world as we know it is about to end,_ the Sakura replied simply. _If our existence no longer has a reason, what do our old rules matter?_

The thought of death still only held for Seishirou an abstract curiosity. The thought of Subaru, however … _Is this how 'kaa-san felt before I killed her?_

_Perhaps. Perhaps not. It's different for everyone._

_Well, whatever this feeling is, I can't say I love him. I don't regret hurting him, I won't sacrifice myself like Hokuto-chan to save him, and nor will I let myself die the way 'kaa-san did on my hand. I won't let him live on in a world that does not have me in it._

_What will you do?_

The east was beginning to flame red. It brought a wind carrying the first sounds of battle. Smiling, Seishirou straightened and took out his sunglasses. _I don't know. Shall we go find out?_

 

*

 

He saw little of the Final Day. There was death, yes, and destruction too, but what was the death of another dozen people on top of the hundreds of thousands already killed? They held no interest, no relevance or importance. Only one person mattered on this last day, and Seishirou saved his fight for him, waiting on a ruined roof in what had been Roppongi until a familiar figure in white approached.

And yet there was no fight, only words. They were delivered smilingly on Seishirou's part and with quiet hurt on Subaru's, and questions too, last night's encounter both pretended and dreamed away. Subaru asked if Seishirou still felt nothing for him, and with the end so near Seishirou saw no reason not to tell him cold, useless truth. A toy. A favourite toy a child cannot live without. After seventeen years, that is all you are. The pain on Subaru's face had been beautiful to watch – but then it changed. A smile Seishirou had never seen before on Subaru dawned, brilliant and soft and edged with tears.

"You answered the question."

He had realised all at once what he had done, felt it in his bones with with the force of collapsing glaciers that terrified and exhilarated – and then passed. The words had been said. He was still standing, and he need only live with them for a few heartbeats. The shock on his face softened to an actual smile as he removed his dark glasses for Subaru. "I suppose I did."

Touch. Seishirou did not move as Subaru enclosed him in an embrace. Even now on the precipice, the thought of allowing himself to be vulnerable and seen by this person ... hesitantly he reached up and smelled smoke and musk in Subaru's dark hair. Something inside him was aching and he marvelled at it, how it hurt and warmed all at once, and he found himself wishing that seconds could stretch and bend in origami folds making a space where he could explore the feeling in full with Subaru in his arms ... "Shall we end this?" he whispered.

Warm breath on his cheek, and a hand against his heart. "Yes."

 

*

 

There was hurt and there was darkness, and there were words in the darkness that tumbled and fell over and over around him like flakes of snow, soft and silent and searing cold. _Only Subaru can kill you. And only you can kill Subaru. If you try to kill Subaru the way you've killed me, that blow will reflect back to you._

_I'm not the kind of man you should trust._

_I know. But Subaru thinks you're special. That's why I want to trust you._

He remembered magic, silver and bright, waking to wrap around his killing hand. Part of him had warmed to feel it, glad that she had cast true, and welcomed the echo of Hokuto's presence in their embrace at the end of all things. But he had held back, fought against every instinct otherwise, and waited, for the first time in his life, for another to strike first.

_It's a beautiful thing to be killed by the one you love._

His heart had burned when Subaru's shikigami pierced it. Death, something he had brought to countless others, finally stepping through his own door, but only on his terms. As life and silver words faded he gave into instinct, his nature, stabbing his hand through Subaru's chest and feeling the young man shudder in joy even as they died. Mine. Always. To the end of all things and beyond ...

_I wish that everyone could be happy._

... in the empty dark where agony was gravity pulling in loss and regret and loneliness until a thought struck that shook the world like an earthquake waking him and everything he had been only he couldn't quite remember everything except in branch-tangled dreams and that aching part of him which wanted to possess and take and faced each new day wondering about a pair of emerald eyes—

_I said I love you. I'm continuing the Bet because I want you by my side._

—looking back at him unflinching in full knowledge of who and what he was—

_You got what you wanted. You go the time you Wished for, you got it with Subaru-san – and you blew it. Because you're a stubborn, idiotic coward._

—and for the first time saw hope—

 

* * *

 

Nervous, Kakyou sat waiting by the unconscious Sakurazukamori. It seemed that hours had passed, and when at some point the maboroshi faded out the late afternoon sun made it apparent that they had. All around people were enjoying snacks or rest or conversation, filling Ueno Park with life and laughter that floating with the autumn leaves gradually covering the ground in red and gold. Kakyou knew that the leaves from the Sakura were an illusion, but it didn't make them any less lovely, and he brushed some off the Sakurazukamori's still face. How long did it take to remember a life? Would he react as Kakyou had done, as Karen had said she'd done, with fear and anguish touching madness? What if he didn't wake up?

A wind whispered through the Sakura's branches. Kakyou's heart pounded as the Sakurazukamori's eyes drew slowly open. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

Heavily, the Sakurazukamori sat up and rasped, "I'm fine."

"You don't look it, here, let me help—"

"I said I'm fine." Kakyou froze the Sakurazukamori's gaze struck him, inhumanly calm with an expression that, although pleasant, warned against any assistance. Self-control both awe-inspiring and terrifying— "But thank you."

"... How much do you remember?"

"Everything."

Such a simple word. Kakyou didn't dare move as Seishirou stood and dusted himself off. "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take back what's mine." Complete, Seishirou looked down at Kakyou with a smile beneath his clear, hard eyes. "However, right now I think we should get something to eat. Ice-cream?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The mass murder Okada is referring to is the Tokyo subway sarin gas attack of March 1995 by Aum Shinrinkyo which, among other things, believed in a doomsday prophecy ([Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tokyo_subway_sarin_attack)).
> 
> \- Arita, in Saga Prefecture on the island of Kyushu, is one of the centres of Japanese traditional ceramics and best known for Imari porcelain ([Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imari_porcelain)). Karatsu is nearby, and holds its iconic festival each November ([Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karatsu_Kunchi)).
> 
> \- A  _kechibi_ (けち火) in Japanese folklore is a human ghost in the shape of a fireball ([Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kechibi))
> 
> -  _Kintsugi_  (金継ぎ) is the Japanese art of repairing ceramics with gold lacquer, with the philosophy of treating damage as part of the innate beauty and history of the object ([Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi)).
> 
> \- Small reminder that I started writing this fic in the year 2000. Not only was the X/1999 manga still running regularly in ASUKA, it was before the Rainbow Bridge chapters were released. You may imagine how I reacted to that, not just in how it firmly put an end to my OTP and one of my all time favourite characters, but how it affected this story (although at that time as a uni student writing fanfic between lectures I had no idea how massive a project it would become), however I was too far gone into this fanfic to go back and re-write to fit. That being said, the Tokyo Tower 'dream' is deliberately written in a way that it could feasibly fit into the manga canon before Rainbow Bridge :)


	5. Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why didn't you come before?"

**December 1996  
Shinjuku, Tokyo**

Yoshirou triumphantly hurried down the corridor after his quarry. "Director-General. Director-General!" The old man kept walking with his retinue. "Director-General, sir!"

Okada paused and turned. The two deputy directors with him did the same, as did Okada's secretary, and the bodyguards who sized up whether or not Yoshirou and the files under his arm were a threat. Yoshirou made sure to smile at each of them. "Director-General, finally. Pardon my interruption, but I have something important I must bring to your attention."

The two deputy directors looked at Okada with raised eyebrows. "We'll continue this discussion later," Okada said calmly, which allowed the deputies to continue down the corridor, though not before exchanging a comment about impudence they didn't bother muting. For once, Yoshirou was too excited to take offence. "Well?" Okada asked.

Yoshirou glanced at the bodyguards and secretary, then at the open doors and other people passing around them. "I suggest that we speak somewhere private, sir," he said, and leaned in deliberately dropping to a whisper. "It's about the greys."

The Director-General's eyes narrowed. With a jerk of his chin, one of the bodyguards looked through the nearest open doorway and gave a nod. Okada led Yoshirou and the secretary inside, the bodyguards took up positions outside, then the door closed leaving them in an unused meeting room with a window overlooking the city. Yoshirou watched the secretary as she quietly went to stand behind Okada's shoulder. "Ah, sir, the sensitivity of this information—"

"You can speak before Ayuno-san without worry." Okada's calm tone had an impatient crispness. "She's quite familiar with the grey files."

Resentment shot through Yoshirou at the unassuming woman, but he made an effort to hide it. "Very well." He pulled the files out from under his arm. "I've been doing as you asked, watching for any out-of-the-ordinary incidents that would be of interest to you. One came up twelve days ago: a murder in Kyoto, with the body found in what looked like a summoning circle, and a pool of blood. Stabbed through the heart."

He placed his first file – not grey, that would be going too far, but pale blue manila was an obvious hint – on the table and opened it. Okada's gaze flicked at the crime scene pictures Yoshirou had taken inside. "Go on."

"The murder weapon is unknown. However, when I was researching the summoning circle, I came across an old, obscure story about an assassin who uses onmyoujitsu to kill. Method of preference being a hand through the heart, which would fit what I saw on the body." He brought out the other files. "I don't think it's a story."

One by one Yoshirou set out four more files, each bearing the crest of various police headquarters from around the country, and containing a similar autopsy report. Traumatic blow to heart via bodily impalement. Weapon unknown. No evidence or foreign DNA material found. The Director-General scanned them all with no visible reaction, then straightened to ask, "What's your hypothesis?"

"That this assassin-onmyouji – Sakurazukamori – actually exists and kills with impunity, presumably on contract from clients. The Kyoto murder which caught my attention is but the most recent of them. I'd like your authority to investigate further."

"And open a grey file that you can own?"

"Yes."

"Permission denied." Deliberately Okada closed the pale blue folder. "You've overstepped your bounds."

Yoshirou gaped as Okada began to close the others. "Bounds? Sir, with all due respect the implications of this case overrides—"

"I told you from the outset that your work in this was to be strictly passive. Instead, you've been ignoring your actual work to traipse off to Kyoto and poke your nose in places you have no business being. Where the PSIA has no business being seen as being." With a wave of Okada's hand the secretary came forward to collect the files from the table. "Your findings may be of value, but they do not negate the fact that you disregarded my orders."

"Sir, if I can just—"

"No."

The word was said so evenly, Yoshirou likened it to a breeze that barely rippled water, leaving him becalmed and stranded. He could feel a vein pulsing in his neck. "Are you taking me off this assignment?" he bit out.

"You have obviously delivered results, so no. But, if want to prove yourself, think harder about how you're doing it." Okada nodded at his secretary who went to open the door. "And next time you want to speak to me, ask Ayuno-san to schedule you an appointment."

They left, Okada without a backwards glance, and Ayuno with a small bow. Empty-handed, Yoshirou stared after them, his chest rising and falling, then with a vicious kick at an innocent table leg he stormed out, down the corridor, down the elevator to his floor, not caring about the startled and sniggering looks he attracted, until he flung himself into his desk chair wishing all manner of damnation on Okada and his misplaced priorities. Orders. Rules. What did those matter when Yoshirou had turned up a case as big as this? The four unsolved cases Yoshirou had brought to show were but a sample of the some dozen he had been sent from around the country, half of which were just from the Tokyo MPD. It was proof, physical and tangible, that the Sakurazukamori of Kitajima Shouhei's story existed, most likely somewhere in Tokyo, and what existed in the mortal realm could be vanquished and defeated—

His phone rang. Glowering, Yoshirou picked it up. "Ishikuro."

"Sakamoto here. You busy? Because I've got a message for you."

Sakamoto was the Tokyo MPD contact who had gotten Yoshirou those unsolved case files. He was also a detective who had once taken a yakuza bribe to look the other way, a petty thing that Yoshirou had dug out during his time in Internal Review, and, instead of reporting, had thought more valuable to keep to himself as a playing card. So far that card was consistently coming up in Yoshirou's favour. "What's the message?" he asked.

"Your dad's sick. I've no idea about the details, but one of his friends keeps ringing your old work number, and won't take no for an answer. Since we can't give out your PSIA phone, your dad's friend has given us his number for us to pass to you so you can call him instead. This call is me passing you that number."

Yoshirou's eyes narrowed. "I don't want it."

"You're getting it anyway, especially if you want these files I'm looking at."

"How many?"

"Twelve from the cold case archives, oldest dating back to 1961. Unsolved murder via impalement, just like the others. I need to finish the paperwork to transfer them to your jurisdiction, but I can make that process go faster if you take this number and call it so we stop getting bothered here."

"All right, fine, give it to me." Yoshirou grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down the number Sakamoto recited. "And I expect delivery of those files tomorrow."

Sakamoto hissed. "You're a bastard, you know that right?"

"Actually my parents were married when they had me, but thanks for playing. Talk soon."

Yoshirou hung up. Stared at the number Sakamoto had given him, wondering what the hell it meant. The old man was sick, so? He had been unwell for years thanks to drink and a lifetime battering his body on fishing boats. Yoshirou didn't care, but he also didn't like unanswered questions. Taking the phone again, he dialled the number. He was surprised to feel his heart rate pick up.

"Hello?"

The voice that answered was old and unfamiliar. Yoshirou put on his most professional voice. "Good morning, this is Ishikuro Yoshirou, I was given this—"

"Yoshi-kun, thank goodness! It's Fujita Makoto, you remember me, right? I've been trying to call you for days but I only had an out-of-date number I'm so glad you called—"

The nasal Kanazawa dialect grated. "Ah, Fujita ojii-san, I remember you," Yoshirou said airily. "I'm sorry it's been so difficult to contact me, work takes up a lot of time, you know. What's the matter?"

"Whoa, such nice Tokyo-ben, how high you've gone! But you must come back as soon as possible, tonight if you can, your father, he—" Fujita choked. "Your father's dying, Yoshi-kun. He's begging you to come home to say goodbye."

 

**Kyoto University, Kyoto**

Listlessly, Hokuto stared down at the front of the lecture hall. Around her other students were taking their seats, some saving space for friends, some already with open accounting books, but none giving Hokuto anything more than a passing look. Probably due to her reputation around campus, thanks to the bodyguard, who, despite sitting down the front to give her the illusion of space, was still unmistakably present with his bulk and loaded gun holster. Her fellow students had learned to ignore him over the semesters, but that didn't mean they were comfortable.

A shadow slid over Hokuto as someone sat on the upper tier behind her. Hokuto didn't bother looking around, nor was she looking forward to the lecture. Accounting was the definition of boring, it certainly hadn't been Hokuto's choice of study, but it was the one excuse Hokuto had nowadays to get out of Sumeragi House and pretend that she had something resembling a life—

"Excuse me, could I borrow a pen?"

The voice drained the blood from Hokuto's face. Wildly, she twisted in her seat, disbelief warring with danger instincts as she looked up to see— " _Sei-chan?!_ "

Sakurazuka Seishirou sat behind her, dressed in a black jacket with a grey scarf, and looking for all the world like a mature-aged university student. He was wearing glasses very much like the old ones Hokuto still kept hidden in her bedroom, and he was smiling as if he were once again welcoming Hokuto to his veterinary clinic. "Hello, Hokuto-chan, your new hairstyle looks great. Have you been well?"

She couldn't speak. She couldn't believe what she was seeing and hearing, but there he was, the man who had deceived her, the man who had broken Subaru's heart and who Subaru still dreamed of, her family's sworn enemy, the Sakurazukamori— "Pardon me, it seems I do have a pen," Seishirou said, pulling out a silver ballpoint from under his desk and twirling it between his fingers. "And here comes the lecturer. We'd better pay attention, especially when there's someone who's meant to be paying attention to you."

Sure enough, when Hokuto looked down, Professor Murata was making his way to the lectern. At the same time, her bodyguard Sano was stretching in his chair by the lower door and glancing up to check on Hokuto. Somehow Hokuto managed to give him her usual defiant look, which Sano merely shrugged at and settled back with a book. Before Hokuto could turn back to Seishirou, but, Professor Murata started his lecture.

The next hour passed painfully, painfully slow. Hokuto's mind raced, she pretended to bend over her notepad and write, but wasn't hearing a word. Now and again she tried to look at Seishirou and reassure herself that she wasn't dreaming, that he was really and truly here pretending to be studious, but she didn't dare do anything more that could bring attention to herself, or worse, to him. What was he doing here? Why now, after all these years? Was he here about Subaru – stupid question, what else could he be here about? How could he just waltz back into her life like this?

Halfway through the lecture, Hokuto heard something fall beside her foot. Looking down, she saw Seishirou's silver pen and picked it up. There was a strip of paper wrapped around the barrel and tucked under the clip. Hokuto unrolled it with shaking hands.

_Go the roof._

Sharply, Hokuto looked up at Seishirou. He was watching Professor Murata attentively, and appeared not to notice her. Feeling herself smile, Hokuto pocketed the paper and pen.

Finally, the lecture finished, releasing the students with a cacophony of shoved chairs and chatter. Hokuto saw Seishirou head towards the hall's upper doors surrounded by people who probably assumed he was dropping in from another course, if they noticed him at all. Down the front of the hall, Sano was already watching and waiting for her to come down as she usually did. Between them, the steps of the hall were filled with milling bodies. Counting to five under her breath, Hokuto slung her bag over her shoulder, made her way to the steps, and headed up.

She saw Sano curse. He wasn't stupid, and this was far from the first time Hokuto had sought to ditch him. Speeding up, she shoved through the other students for the upper door knowing the crowd would slow Sano's pursuit, until she found herself in the corridor outside. She broke free of the crush and ran straight for the stairwell, mentally crossing fingers that she had enough of a lead that Sano wouldn't see, and leaped upwards two steps at a time, boots pounding the concrete like her heart, which was drumming with an excitement she hadn't felt in years. Seishirou was here. Seishirou had deliberately sought her out. Whether for good or ill, his coming meant change.

The door to the roof stood before her. Hokuto didn't hesitate to shove it open and stride out beneath the cold, mist-white sky. There was a tall figure standing near the edge. Hokuto walked right up to him lifting the silver pen. "You forgot something," she said clearly.

Seishirou looked down at her. The glasses he had been wearing earlier were gone, the scarf was undone revealing a tie and collared shirt, and what she had thought was a black jacket was actually a long black coat. A starker, colder look compared to his veterinarian persona five years ago. "I did, didn't I," he replied. "Thank you taking care of it for me."

He was still smiling. Smiling at her with cold, amber eyes that for the first time Hokuto was seeing clearly. This man, her brother's beloved betrayer, her former best friend, standing and smiling like nothing had happened—

Her fingers curled around the pen. Then, she viciously drew back her arm and punched.

Seishirou doubled over. Hokuto dropped her bag and stood over him with tears stinging her eyes. "You _idiot_. You damned, two-faced, arrogant piece of trash Sakurazukamori—"

"The pleasure's all mine." With a wheeze Seishirou stood up – he was too tall for Hokuto to land a solid blow on his face, but the gut-punch had been incredibly satisfying. "Anything else you need to get off your chest?"

"—after everything you did how can you just turn up out of the blue like this do you have any idea what we've been through—"

"I was hoping you'd tell me."

Sniffling, Hokuto stopped. Stared once more at Seishirou's deceptively calm smile. "Are you here for Subaru?"

"There are rumours that your family has taken certain steps regarding his well-being."

 _His well-being._ Hokuto felt her lip curl. "Oh, that's rich. You lead Subaru on, dump him in the most brutal way possible, ignore him completely for half a decade – and now you turn up without even an apology as if you _care?_ "

"That's one way of putting it."

She swung her fist without thinking. Seishirou blocked it with ease, and when Hokuto glanced down she saw his right hand pointed at her heart. "Careful, Hokuto-chan," the Sakurazukamori said, "I allowed you the first—"

"Half-allowed." She sneered into his smile. "You clenched your jaw, not your solar plexus."

"—but I won't give you a second. You don't have the power to defeat me."

"I know." Swiftly she knocked his right hand aside, twisting and ducking like a dancer to avoid the follow-up blow, and using her smaller size to get in close— "But I can still give you a fight."

They stopped again, Seishirou's hand pressed like a blade between Hokuto's ribs, Hokuto holding the silver pen towards Seishirou's throat. If she clicked the pen the nib would mark his skin ... infuriatingly Seishirou's smile widened and Hokuto seethed, ready to spit in his face, when something struck her. At such close quarters, instead of the living ice Hokuto remembered, Seishirou's amber eyes seemed more like cold fire.

Warm, shallow breaths fanned across her knuckles. Hokuto lowered her fist and stepped back. "Why didn't you come before?" she asked quietly.

She could see Seishirou picking words with care before he turned, apparently to examine the view of Kyoto University below. "Before, it was easier to stay away."

"And now?"

"Now, it's not. Because I remember."

"Remember what."

"That other life."

A shiver spider-walked down Hokuto's spine as she re-pocketed the pen. "The one where you kill me?"

"You also remember?"

"No, Subaru told me. I thought he was delusional."

"Ah. Well, I can tell you it's all true. If it makes you feel better, you asked me to kill you, because doing so would let you cast a spell that would kill me if I tried to kill your brother."

"... Did it work?"

"It kept me from killing him, at least until the day the world was supposed to end. He killed me first, and, since that meant your spell had no purpose, I then struck back."

"So, we all died? Lovely." She was trying to imagine being dead by Seishirou's hand and couldn't; the here and now was too urgent. "How are we standing here talking, then?"

"Apparently, the power that won decided to give those involved with the end of the world a second chance, or at least that's how I understand it. I'll admit it's not my area of expertise." He raised his voice. "You'd be a better storyteller for that, Kuzuki-kun."

She heard the door to the roof swinging shut behind her, then footsteps with a very familiar voice saying, "Huh?"

" _Kakyou?_ " Shock made the name squeak as she whirled – sure enough, there was Kakyou, standing in jeans and tan-coloured jacket and staring at her from under a fall of blond hair— "You as well?"

"Hokuto-chan!" Already Kakyou was flushing pink. "Y-you're here, I thought you would—" He turned to Seishirou accusingly. "I thought you said we would find her in the afternoon lecture!"

"I changed the plan. Did you arrange the car hire?"

"I did, but—"

"Wait, _wait_." Hokuto's head was spinning; this was too much too quickly, and glad as she was to see Kakyou she still couldn't believe what was happening— "Kakyou, Sei-chan, you two know each other?"

"We recently discovered that we're old colleagues." Seishirou smirked. "Kuzuki-kun can do the explaining."

"I don't think that's a good idea, if she reacts like we did—"

"She won't. I've already confirmed that she doesn't remember the other life, and why would she? She was dead long before the Final Day."

"What Final Day?"

"See?"

"Um." Kakyou tried to smile at Hokuto as if to offer reassurance. "Maybe I should start from the beginning ..."

Haltingly, the story unfolded in a way that had a strong whiff of attempted rehearsal. Kakyou's former life as a dreaming mind in a useless body. Their first meeting in Dreamscape, and how Kakyou later watched her ask for death under Seishirou's cherry tree, binding the Sakurazukamori with a spell powered by her heart's blood. The end of the world and those who would fight for and against it, including Kakyou who, not having anything to live for, was allied with Seishirou, who in turn faced Subaru as his opposite. "You would have thought it romantic, I'm sure," Seishirou threw in, smoking off-side.

"Do you want to tell your side of the story now?" Kakyou asked irritably. Seishirou flicked ashes off the roof's edge without replying. "Didn't think so."

"What's his side of the story?" Hokuto demanded.

"Ah—" Kakyou paled at the look Seishirou gave. "Better let him tell it, if he's ever ready. I'll just say that there's a reason, not the best but understandable, that it's taken the Sakurazukamori until now to act. You see, this new life ..."

On the explanation went, about wishes and second chances and buried fault-lines of memory triggered to crack like earthquakes. It took a while, even with what Hokuto suspected were the bare highlights, and by the time Kakyou finished with how he confronted Seishirou about the Sakura his voice was rough, Seishirou was on his third cigarette, and Hokuto was sitting on the cold ground wrapped in Seishirou's grey scarf with eyes squeezed shut. So much information that sounded too impossible to be true, but would explain so many things, especially about Subaru those last few months in Tokyo. Subaru, hiding this knowledge all along but now remembered nothing— "You know," she croaked into the silence, "these past few days, when you didn't return my calls, I thought you no longer wanted to talk to me. Because you thought _my_ story was crazy."

She heard Kakyou's sneakers shuffle uncomfortably. "I'm sorry for not calling. I just, finding out all of this ... it was a lot to take in."

"No kidding. I'm going to need a while to do that." Hokuto made herself lift her head with a shaky smile. "Then again, it's also the reason you're now here, right? With him. So, your crazy story has a happy ending. I can't tell you how glad I am for it."

She met Kakyou's gaze, which was wide and open with a look of wonder— "If you're quite done with backstory, there are more current things to discuss," Seishirou interrupted impatiently.

The wonder on Kakyou's face turned into rolling eyes, and Hokuto found her smile solidifying. Her mind burned with countless questions, but when she reached a hand out, she found herself asking only one. "So, what are you planning to do?" she asked, allowing Kakyou to pull her to her feet.

"He wants to take your brother away. I insisted on helping to make sure you come as well."

Hokuto's heart skipped. "To Tokyo?"

"Yes."

She could feel her imagination spark, lighting up darkened paths she hadn't walked in years. Already there was the urge to run down them laughing and singing, only Hokuto was no longer the girl who had danced in Tokyo's streets. "I want to go, absolutely I want to go. I'm sure Subaru would too if he ..."

The way Seishirou was watching her made her blood chill. "If he hasn't forgotten me?" he finished calmly.

"He hasn't _forgotten_ , it's more ..." She had to fumble for the right words and the look on Seishirou's face wasn't helping. "It's more that he can't remember. The memories of you and our time in Tokyo, they're still in Subaru's mind, but Subaru can't consciously recall them. Don't ask me how the spell works, the best way I can understand it is that it's like a corrupted computer, where the files are still on memory, but can't be accessed by the operating system. The only time Subaru seems to be able to remember anything is in his dreams, which he can't understand, but I do. I know he dreams about you."

It was hard to tell, but it seemed to Hokuto that something in Seishirou's expression changed at that. "Have you tried helping him remember?" Kakyou asked.

"Obaa-chama would send me away if I breathed a word. And I know she would do it without hesitation." Hokuto found herself smiling bitterly. "Actually, she said she'd send me to Tokyo and let me study fashion or design, but the price would be never seeing Subaru again. I couldn't do that, although there have been times I've considered it. Does that make me a horrible sister?"

"Absolutely not," Kakyou said firmly. "Thoughts like that are natural, what matters is what you chose to do, and you chose to stay. Subaru-san is the luckiest man in the world to have a sister like you."

Hokuto blushed with gratitude and opened her mouth to reply— "How long has the spell been in place?" Seishirou demanded.

She shot him a glare. "Five years. Since Shinjuku Hospital when you nearly killed him and left. If you hadn't done that, Obaa-chama wouldn't have gone in to see and block his memories, so it's really because of you Subaru is like this—"

"Hokuto-chan." Kakyou gently caught her elbow. "Not that you don't have every reason to be angry, but now isn't the best time."

The pressure of Kakyou's fingers made her fists unclench. Still Hokuto had to take a few deep breaths before continuing. "It's not just Obaa-chama, it's also my cousin, Shouhei. Kitajima Shouhei, he's Sumeragi through his grandfather, but it's an illegitimate line and a whole other load of drama I won't go into. Shouhei is also an onmyouji, not on Subaru's level but definitely one of the more powerful ones in the family, and since he studied psychology at university he's particularly good at magics Within. He's the one who maintains Obaa-chama's blocking spell in Subaru's mind, and repairs it whenever it wears down. Which is often.

"Subaru ... isn't himself. He's still Subaru, but he's just existing, without any feeling or passion or want, not even to leave Sumeragi House, which, over the last five years, he's stepped out of barely a dozen times. Usually this isn't a problem other than being _wrong_ in and of itself, but when the spell wears down Subaru ... hurts himself. He can realise that he's missing something, something he needs, and he's frantic to feel what. He makes himself bleed and I can't stand to watch, it makes me think he's better off not feeling anything or worse, it would be better that you had killed him, but I don't want to think those things and I don't want Subaru to live like this and it's all your fucking _fault!_ "

The shout echoed off the roof into the white sky. Hokuto could feel it ringing in her ears, and viciously hoped it was ringing in Seishirou's. Statue-still he stood before her, his face unreadable, but finally, _finally_ his smile was gone. Hokuto wasn't finished. "And now you swan back here because you remember messing up in the past, but for what! To take Subaru back? To make things how they were before? Well, you can't, there's no fixing what you did—"

"I know," Seishirou said evenly. "But I'd like to try."

She stared at him in challenge watching the cold fire of his eyes. "Why do you want him back."

The fire flickered almost furtively. "Doesn't my being here say enough?"

"No, because I want to hear you say it. None of your counters or dodging, just why. Otherwise, I won't let you have him."

She could see him struggling, even resentment as reason warred with ... something. Whatever change had brought Seishirou here, it wasn't enough— "Hokuto-chan," said Kakyou quietly. "Perhaps that's a question your brother should ask him."

It was a fair point, but Hokuto refused to take it as she watched Seishirou squirm. Only when Kakyou again took her arm and repeated his suggestion did she grudgingly relent. "Fine, change of question. Why should I trust you?"

Seishirou let out a breath. "I'm aware that past events make trust difficult. However, I will say that although I could act without your involvement, I allowed your Dreamgazer to come and I'm now here speaking to you. I _will_ free Subaru, and I know he would tell you one thing: being the Sakurazukamori doesn't mean I'm not also a man of my word."

The words were icy, chilling Hokuto's skin and reviving memory: salted chocolate, an angry face quailing under Seishirou's cold gaze, Subaru clear-eyed and sheltered in Seishirou's shadow, and the thought _they fit together_ glowing like candle flame. She realised that Seishirou hadn't mentioned that he was probably their only, certainly their best, chance at escape, and what he had mentioned was telling. Unexpectedly, Hokuto found her lips quirking up. "You know, I think that's the first time I've heard you actually say Subaru's name."

The Sakurazukamori's eyes narrowed. "So?"

"Nothing. It just ... sounded nice. Do you have anything to add, Kakyou?" Kakyou shook his head, and that, more than anything, gave Hokuto the confidence to take a deep breath and say her next words. "So how do we get Subaru out?"

Seishirou told her the plan. It wasn't long, and took Hokuto aback with its audacity. "You're insane," she said bluntly.

"Told you," Kakyou muttered at Seishirou, who merely shrugged.

"How can you possibly think that'll work! Not only is the house warded, my entire family, onmyouji and not, is trained to fight and all of them are at home—"

"Not all," Seishirou corrected. "I hear your grandmother is away on business."

"Only until tomorrow!"

"Exactly."

Hokuto stared. "You want to do this tonight?"

"Do you have a reason to wait?"

Of course she didn't, and if they did wait the only thing to happen would be Lady Sumeragi's return. The powerful twelfth head who, upon returning, would no doubt want to work on Shouhei's plan to erase Subaru's memories in earnest. "Not at all," Hokuto said, drawing herself up. "But it doesn't give us much time to prepare."

"For my part the preparations are mostly done. Only two things remain, and both require you. The first is information: the layout of your house in detail, the persons inside it, their habits and abilities and such. Kuzuki-kun has already gone for a walk around your neighbourhood since unlike me, he is completely unknown to your family, but obviously there's nothing like inside knowledge."

"Okay, that's easy. What's the second."

Seishirou reached into his coat pocket continuing, "The second is taking down the wards. These ofuda are dormant, but, when activated, will take down or at least disrupt most spells it may be in contact with. You will need to take these home, and place one over each of the wards inside your family's house. Discretely."

As Seishirou spoke, he lifted what turned out to be a sheaf of card-sized paper for Hokuto to see. The front piece was adorned with silver symbols Hokuto immediately recognised as a break spell, however, unlike the ofuda of her family, Seishirou's ofuda were black. They also gave Hokuto her first twinge of unease. "Won't there be sakanagi against whoever cast the spell your ofuda disrupts?" she asked.

"Of course. But wards are a basic spell, even you with your power level can cast them. The sakanagi will probably be painful enough to make our movements easier, but it certainly won't damage anyone permanently."

Sabotage. Injury. Hokuto would be helping the Sakurazukamori attack her family, a thought which made her shiver, but given Subaru's current situation it was easy to steel herself. Sort of. "I'll do it on one condition: you must promise that tonight you will only hurt where necessary, and you absolutely won't kill any member of my family. Even if I'm angry with most of them, I don't want any Sumeragi dead, least of all by your hand. You said you're a man of your word, this is where you prove it to me."

"Consider the promise made. We even have a witness, right, Kuzuki-kun?" Kakyou made a firm sound of acknowledgement, then Seishirou held the sheaf out to Hokuto. "If that's to your satisfaction, here."

Had Seishirou promised too easily? Still Hokuto didn't flinch as she took the Sakurazukamori's ofuda, not even when she felt her fingers tingle. "What if there aren't enough for all the wards?"

"Use your judgement as to where best to place them."

"Do you trust my judgement?"

"More than you probably trust me. Now, tell me about the house and the people in it."

"... All right."

One by one she listed the individuals of her family, their particular strengths and skills, and their habitual locations in Sumeragi House. Afterwards, she went through the servants who were unlikely to pose any threat, and the armed security guards who likely would. She added their positions to the house layout she drew on her notepad as she explained, and from there they reworked the plan again. It took a while, with Seishirou leading Hokuto and Kakyou through a level of detail that went some ways to reassuring concerns, but not completely. "And if this doesn't work?" Hokuto asked, worried.

"I'd have to weigh up whether the promise you asked of me is worth more than my life. Any more questions?" Hokuto and Kakyou shook their heads. "Then we're finished."

He tore Hokuto's sketch from the notepad and took it with him, along with his pen. Hokuto felt her breath expel heavily – as much as her head was buzzing with nervous anticipation, it must now have been at least a couple of hours since Seishirou asked her for a pen, and for all that she was still wearing his scarf over her jacket, the cold had long soaked under her tights and mini-skirt. "Are you all right?" Kakyou asked.

She smiled tiredly. "It's been an intense afternoon with too many surprises. Don't worry, I'll be fine for tonight."

"I know you will. There's plenty of time before things start, so you can get some rest first, too." He glanced at Seishirou, who was still studying Hokuto's hand-drawn house plan with the focus of a student facing a final exam. "If it helps, I've seen what the Sakurazukamori can do. Reckless as the plan sounds, if anyone can pull it off, it's him."

The implication made her tense. "You've seen him at work?"

"Not in this life. In the other … let's just say he was the most effective when it came to bringing down kekkai for the world's end. Which didn't happen," Kakyou added quickly, "we have a second chance now, and those who fought that day came back changed, him included, even if he won't admit it."

"Hmph. I hope Subaru beats that admission out of him. When he remembers." She bit her lip. "Or if."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. In Tokyo."

"... Okay." Just the thought filled Hokuto with neon lights, glittering and fluttering until, like a swarm of butterflies, they lifted her forward to give Kakyou an impulsive hug. "I can't wait. Thank you."

She could feel Kakyou turning red, then, awkwardly, his arms lifting to return the hug. Despite her stinging eyes Hokuto grinned, chin tucked into Kakyou's shoulder as she stood on tiptoe, not caring about how Seishirou was watching them with a look of amused impatience. The stupid, vain Sakurazukamori – letting Kakyou go, Hokuto stood straight and sent Seishirou a look of challenge. "Hey, Sei-chan."

"Yes?"

She caught him. Wrapped her arms around his arms and torso, and pressed her cheek flush against his chest. It was impossible to miss how he froze, or how his breath caught in shock, and Hokuto tightened her embrace, the scent of spice and blood finally real and warm. It hurt to breathe. Before Seishirou could say or do anything, but, she released him. "You've kept your cologne," she observed.

Warily he watched her for any more surprises. "What of it?"

"That's good." Hokuto fetched her bag to leave, and wiped tears from her smile's edges. "Hopefully you'll find out why."

 

**Sagano, Kyoto**

Sunset. It slid down behind the clearing clouds, and lit houses in red and pink. On the streets were people passing: students returning from clubs, workers finishing jobs, families and couples taking a walk. Many of them greeted each other as they went, and barely glanced at the walls of the large estate with its bored security guards outside the heavy wooden gate. One of these passer-bys was a young man, a university student, perhaps, with blond hair sticking out from under a baseball cap, and carrying a small sheaf of papers which he was taping to various light and power poles. He reached the power-pole directly across the street from the estate's gate, the wires of which stretched over the estate's walls, and added his paper to the layers of local ads there. Had the security guards bothered to look, they would have seen that the young man had put up a lost dog notice searching for 'Pochi'.

The guards didn't look. Nor did they realise that under the lost dog notice was another, smaller piece of paper, ink-black and apparently unmarked save for a single, silver star.

 

* * *

 

The yawn was a hint, the near-upright clock hands an order. Rubbing his eyes, Shouhei closed the psychology journal and stood with a wince at his aching back, though not before carefully marking his notes for the night. So many complications, so many mysteries in the human brain, especially around memory, but at least Shouhei was getting somewhere. Certainly he had enough to discuss with Lady Sumeragi when she returned with Takehiko tomorrow. Satisfied, Shouhei pulled his haori closed over his pajamas and left the library.

Sumeragi House was mostly dark, and completely quiet. Despite his weariness, instead of heading directly to his room Shouhei took a meandering path past the dojo, the rooms where Nuriko, Takehiko, and Katsumi's branches of the family slept, the kitchens, the main hall, and so on. Although Lady Sumeragi had left Shouhei and Nuriko jointly in charge, in practice this had turned out to be Shouhei only, with Nuriko's advice and support. Nuriko wasn't up to making nightly rounds of the entire house, her idea of dealing with the adults' squabbles was snapping at them to listen to Shouhei, and she certainly wasn't the one to deal with Subaru and Hokuto, not that there had been cause to. Subaru had been perfectly quiet this week, thankfully, no fits or break-downs, and Hokuto had been no more difficult than usual. True, Hokuto had ditched her bodyguard at university today, apparently to sneak off shopping judging by her new scarf, but it was far from the first time, and at dinner she had borne Shouhei and the rest of the family's admonishments with uncharacteristic silence—

Something tingled in Shouhei's mind as he entered the hall of the wing he, the twins, and Lady Sumeragi stayed in. He had passed a warding point, formed by strips of white spell-paper placed on the wooden support pillars that framed the entryway, each bearing Takeshi's signature. Shouhei himself had several of his own placed about the estate, as did every other adult onmyouji in the family except Subaru. The wards were layered like an onion, and seamlessly joined as only spells cast by members of the same clan could be, to the point that not only could unannounced visitors and stray spirits not enter, even cats and birds were dissuaded from the garden. Thinking that maybe one of the papers was coming unstuck, Shouhei bent and squinted through his glasses to inspect.

The ward on the first pillar was flat and whole, a small rectangle of waning moonlight in the thick shadows. The ward on the second pillar, however, was harder to find, and it was only when Shouhei switched on the hall's ceiling light did he realise why. Pasted over Takeshi's ofuda was another strip of paper, this one plain black and marked with a silver star. No, not just a star, a pentagram. An inverted pentagram that, even as Shouhei watched in dawning horror, was beginning to glow red.

An eagle's scream pierced the night as the black ofuda flared. Instantly Shouhei collapsed, unable to move or even shout, as the shards of shattered wards stabbed into his mind with waves of agony. Then the light went out.

 

* * *

 

Wrapped in illusion, Seishirou stood in shadowed trees just beyond the walls of Sumeragi House. His eagle shikigami was circling high above, the ex-Dreamgazer was in place, and Hokuto-chan was inside waiting. Somewhere within the walls was Subaru.

For the first time in this life, Seishirou knew exactly what he was doing, and why.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the moonlit quiet, and ignoring the Sakura's pleas. His shikigami noted that the light in Hokuto's window flashed twice, indicating that she was ready. Lifting his right hand in a two-finger focus, Seishirou spoke a single word.

The wards around Sumeragi House went down. Immediately Seishirou heard a commotion break out: people waking in pain, confused shouts, his shikigami triumphantly calling Hokuto and Kakyou to move. Another word from Seishirou, and the ofuda hidden on the power-pole feeding the estate lit up with an overwhelming burst of energy. What lights had turned on in the house fell dark, and did not come back on. Opening his eyes, Seishirou broke into a run, then leaped.

His hands grabbed the top of the wall. From there, it was easy to haul himself up and over, briefly sparing a nostalgic thought for the powers of the Final Day when dragons could fly. He landed in the mossy garden and immediately began to stride towards the house, crushing fern fronds beneath his shoes and unravelling his concealment in a whirl of sakura petals. It added an intimidating flair of theatre, but, more importantly, it drew attention. The more the alarm focused on him, the less anyone would notice Hokuto's movements, or realise that the perimeter guards had been lured away by Kakyou. His shikigami screeched out for challenge.

The first came on the steps. An elderly woman with long grey hair falling about her face, which, although pinched with pain, was admirably focused as she knelt one determined knee on the veranda's cold wood, fans of white ofuda spreading between her fingers. _Sumeragi Nuriko_ , Hokuto had said, _my grandmother's cousin. Very experienced onmyouji, likes children although she never had any herself, to the point that she keeps treating me as one. Woodpecker shikigami, doesn't like fighting, but will when she has to._ The moment Seishirou put a foot on the bottom step, Nuriko unleashed a barrage of charged ofuda at his face, a familiar trick that Seishirou had seen Subaru use to far greater effect at Nakano in that other life. Quickly, Seishirou took out his cigarette lighter and flicked it to flame, which, at his command, flared up in a wall of fire that turned the ofuda to ash and set nearby bushes alight. As burning paper rained down over the steps, Seishirou ran up to the too-slow Nuriko, and slammed the edge of his hand into the base of her skull.

His shikigami screamed a warning. As Nuriko slumped over, Seishirou jerked his head to the side and felt a blow whistle past his ear. He spun around to find a man in his early forties, bespectacled and thin in blue pajamas, with the bookish look of an accountant that jarred with the martial arts stance he stood in. _Sumeragi Hiroshi. Youngest son of my grandmother's other cousin, Sumeragi Takehiko, no onmyoujitsu powers other than sensitivity, judo 4-dan. He takes care of the family paperwork, and doesn't talk much._ Ducking another strike to his head, Seishirou let himself be driven down the veranda, defensively keeping well away from any grips that would bring him into Hiroshi's hold and advantage. An attempt at more fire went nowhere as Hiroshi knocked the lighter from Seishirou's hand, and any moves to pull out ofuda were likewise aborted as Hiroshi pressed his attacks denying Seishirou space to move. Evidently, Hiroshi knew onmyouji and how to fight them, but the Sakurazukamori was no ordinary onmyouji … feinting, Seishirou allowed Hiroshi to grab his wrist, taking care to ground his weight against the fighter's foot sweep. As Hiroshi moved to throw him, Seishirou had already lifted his right arm for his killing blow to the heart, the magic of which overpowered any defence. At the last moment, Seishirou turned his hand. The resulting palm-slam hurled Hiroshi along the veranda like a rag doll and into a wall with a sickening crunch. He did not get up.

There was an open door nearby. Breathing hard, Seishirou ducked inside the house, getting his bearings and stretching his mind out for the shining point that was Subaru's marked hands. It had not moved since the wards had gone down. For whatever reason, Hokuto had been unable to bring Subaru with her, which meant going to plan B. Swiftly Seishirou began to make his way to Subaru's location, passing decorated screens and darkened rooms along the way. Inside one of these was an elegant old woman, kneeling over the body of a man ( _Sumeragi Takeshi, onmyouji with pheasant shikigami, no sense of humour, and Hiroshi's older brother. Their mother, Hana, has no onmyoujitsu powers, and is the perfect, passive, traditional wife)_ she was frantically trying to wake. Seishirou thought he would pass unnoticed, but the moment his silhouette crossed the door Hana's head jerked up, and her hand flashed out. Seishirou dodged the hurled teacup easily, but not the attack which burst out of the room next door. White birds swarmed everywhere, tearing at his chest and face – hissing with pain, he managed to slip his coat off and whip it, blowing the birds down the corridor and past another woman, middle-aged and full-figured in her nightgown, who stood before Seishirou with a furious face Hokuto had described as Sumeragi Katsumi. _She's my second aunt, a hard-working onmyouji with a non-sensitive husband, and two young children both in onmyoujitsu training. Her shikigami are lethally fast, but she's out of practice as a physical fighter._ Even as Seishirou pulled his coat back on, she was regrouping her shikigami and sending them in for another attack, in the formation of a giant blade aimed straight at Seishirou's neck. Any other time Seishirou might have enjoyed a drawn-out onmyoujitsu duel, but not tonight – running towards the shikigami, at the last second he ducked to slide beneath and knock Katsumi off her feet. She yelled and managed to catch her fall, but Seishirou already had the advantage and quickly found a grip in her curled hair. He clinically smashed her face into the floor with enough force to break her nose, and a sleep spell did the rest. Her shikigami fluttered to the floor as paper.

A shriek rang out. Instantly Seishirou looked up and stood to see, outside the window, a pair of birds streaking across the garden towards him. The bigger bird was a cormorant, brown-black and desperately snaking through the night air as if in chase of its companion. The other bird was a large crow, white feathers cast red by the burning bushes, and open beak poised for attack. It glowed with a signature that electrified Seishirou's already thudding pulse.

Subaru had come to fight.

 

* * *

 

Groggily, Shouhei opened his eyes and tried to make the hall focus. It did, but only after Shouhei readjusted his glasses and took far too many deep breaths, and it wavered all over again when Shouhei dragged himself to sit up. Immediately he retched, tasting sour bile that he had to spit out right there and then, wondering at such intense sakanagi – and then he remembered the black ofuda. Worse, he realised that every single major ward over the estate, from the perimeter and gate to the doors of the pitch-black house, was gone. Somewhere in the garden, there was the sound of fighting.

Shouhei got to his feet. They were unsteady, yet Shouhei pointed them to run towards Subaru's room anyway, his heart pounding in dread and fear for whichever members of the household were now engaged in combat. There would be deaths for sure, though to the Sakurazukamori they would be mere distractions between him and his true target ... frantic, Shouhei yanked the door of his cousin's room open, and almost collapsed with relief when he saw Subaru sitting up in his futon with a vaguely confused expression. "Shouhei-san," he greeted distantly. "What's going on?"

"Has anyone come here?" Shouhei demanded, trying to switch on the room light and failing.

"Only Hokuto-chan. She said something about needing to go meet someone and tried to pull me away, but I didn't understand. I said I had to speak with you first. I don't know where she is now. What's going on?"

Hokuto. Trying to bring her brother to meet someone, undoubtedly the Sakurazukamori. Hokuto, who had to be the reason why those black ofuda had gotten past the wards and into the house in the first place, was working with the Sakurazukamori in betrayal of her own family. "We're being attacked," Shouhei said shortly, squashing his bitterness as he closed Subaru's door. The estate's electricity was out, but there was enough moonlight that he could see the wooden pole used for keeping sliding doors shut. Shouhei angled it into place.

"What by?"

A slam of his palm jammed the pole into the door's floor track. "I don't know. It doesn't matter." The only thing more dangerous than the Sakurazukamori coming through the door was Subaru realising who was coming. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

"Oh." It was hard to see in the shadows, but Subaru's eyes blinked slowly. "But it's an attack on our family?"

"Yes."

"Shouldn't I help protect everyone?"

His head still ached from sakanagi, but Shouhei grabbed the spare ofuda from Subaru's desk anyway. "You're our thirteenth clan head," he said, gritting teeth as he set a fresh ward over the door, though how effective it would be in his state he did not know. He really wished Lady Sumeragi was here. "You're too important to risk."

"But, that's why I should help. Obaa-chan says I need to become strong to lead and protect this family. I must help."

The darkened room lit up, and, too late, Shouhei turned to see Subaru calmly summoning his personal shikigami. Of all the times for Subaru to take initiative— "No, Subaru-san, don't—!"

The large white crow cawed and circled the room once before flying out the window. On his futon, Subaru sat in lotus position with closed eyes, his mind soaring away to battle. Shouhei swore and scrambled to sit beside him, already summoning his own shikigami. The cormorant dived through the window after Subaru's crow.

Blurs of stars and moon and fire. Mentally seated in his shikigami, Shouhei ungracefully flapped his wings as vertigo mixed with the sakanagi headache, making for a particularly unpleasant type of motion sickness. Long years of training, however, enabled him to push past the pain and concentrate. He was soaring over the garden, Subaru's shikigami streaking ahead, and part of the garden was on fire. There was a crumpled shape on top of the steps, and another a short distance away by the wall. Shouhei had but a split second to identify the bodies as Nuriko and Hiroshi before the white crow made to dive through a window, only to be bowled away by a larger, fast-moving shadow. Instinctively Shouhei pulled to curve up and over the roof, and, when he looked back, he saw Subaru's white crow fighting a grey-black eagle.

Shouhei recognised the eagle from Subaru's locked-up memories. While he had never doubted their attacker was the Sakurazukamori, seeing the man's personal shikigami here and now was another thing entirely. The eagle was majestic, with golden eyes and cruel talons that caught the firelight, and wings that easily outstretched Shouhei's cormorant. Yet Subaru's smaller white crow, rather than being overwhelmed, was taking advantage of manoeuvrability to peck and scratch at the eagle's back. It gave Shouhei heart to see Subaru fight the Sakurazukamori so, and he made his cormorant dive to join the battle. That abruptly stopped as he was brought up behind walls of light.

His cormorant squawked. The walls were a kekkai, with a sparkling Sumeragi signature that made no sense – looking down, Shouhei saw five ofuda beneath him on the garden path, forming star-points that enclosed him completely. When he brought his shikigami lower, he realised that the spells on the ofuda were written in lipstick. Anger flared, at Hokuto, at the Sakurazukamori, at his own failure to foresee such an attack, making Shouhei fling himself at the kekkai walls to no avail, for despite her lack of power, the one bit of magic Hokuto could do well was shielding spells. Trapped, Shouhei could only witness Subaru's crow fight above, still keeping the advantage over the Sakurazukamori's eagle which, strangely, seemed to fight back only enough to defend—

The white crow swooped for the eagle's head. Just before it made contact, the eagle twisted upside down and caught the crow's talons in its own before angling wings to dive. Helpless, Shouhei watched the two birds cartwheel through the air together, talons locked in a death-grip, wings beating as they tumbled towards the ground. They hit the mossy garden close to Shouhei, the crow on its back beneath the eagle, which released its hold just enough to place long talons over the stunned crow's throat and left wing, preventing any escape. Desperately Shouhei's cormorant screeched, trying something, anything to distract the Sakurazukamori from ripping Subaru's spirit apart.

It didn't happen. Instead, the eagle simply bent its head and deliberately began to preen the crow's vulnerable chest.

There was a gasp. All at once Shouhei brought his mind back to his body and opened his eyes. Beside him, Subaru had fallen back, eyes unseeing, spine arching, the pale grey yukata tangling between his bare legs. Gloved hands fisted the futon's sheet with every shallow breath. Even in the shadows, Shouhei could see the flush of colour on Subaru's cheeks.

Shouhei moved quickly. Threw himself over Subaru to place a hand on his cousin's heated face, muttering the spell and exerting both will and muscle against Subaru's struggles. When he finished reinforcing the mental barriers, Subaru lay unconscious and still. Shouhei sat up and wiped sweat from his brow in relief, but then he heard the clatter of a wooden door coming off its railing and ripping his ward spell. "You must be Kitajima-san. From what Hokuto-chan told me, you already know who I am."

The unfamiliar voice chilled Shouhei's blood, and he spun in terror. There was a tall shadow silhouetted in the doorway, one that easily pushed the loose sliding door to one side before stepping into the room. By the moon's light Shouhei saw a man's face that was scratched and bloody, but also smiling. "Good evening," the Sakurazukamori said calmly. "I've come to pick up Subaru."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The paired cartwheeling flight is a specific type of behaviour for some eagle species: it's a courtship flight.


	6. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know the Sakurazukamori has taken Subaru-san!" Lady Sumeragi snapped, and Shouhei cringed. "Tell me _how_."

**December 1996  
Sagano, Kyoto**

The security guards didn't see her coming. Ordered to watch for a tall male intruder, an attack from one of their charges had probably never entered their heads, and Hokuto combined that with the blackout to her full advantage. She took out the first guard – Sano, as it turned out – by surprise, and the second after a brief fight that ended with her boot hammering the back of the man's head. The blow had been incredibly satisfying, at least until Hokuto remembered that as much as she resented the security guards who also chaperoned her, they were simply hired help. Muttering an apology, she dragged the unconscious guards into a nearby room, snatched up the two duffel bags she had dropped, and resumed running.

She heard fighting, but encountered none of her family, or other guards on her way through the house. Of the eight private security guards on the Sumeragi's roster, six were on duty at any given time: two inside the estate's grounds, and four outside around the perimeter. Presuming Kakyou's part had gone smoothly, those other four guards would now be chasing shadows leaving the gate free. For all its audacity, Seishirou's plan was so far unfolding exactly as hoped. Mostly. Subaru was the exception.

Hokuto tried to squash her hurt about that. She had thought, truly, that the moment she told Subaru they were leaving, that Subaru would just get up and go, if not out of self-motivation, then because she had told him to. Instead, Subaru had blinked confusedly, remained in bed, and, in response to Hokuto's pleas, said that he should ask Shouhei. Hokuto had nearly blurted out Seishirou's name at that point, and only Kakyou's remembered warning had stopped her. _We don't know how he'll react, and it may complicate the escape. Best to tell him nothing about Sakurazuka until we're safely away._

 _We won't have much time_ , Seishirou added then. _If, Hokuto-chan, for whatever reason you can't get him to run with you, leave and focus on the car. I'll fetch him instead._

 _Is that wise?_ Kakyou had asked.

 _I'll put him to sleep. Nothing I haven't done before_ —

A screech arrested her attention. Her eyes widened when she realised that there was fire flickering in the garden outside, which, together with the moonlight, lit up three birds beyond the window. Subaru's white crow shikigami was instantly recognisable, as was Shouhei's cormorant. The third bird was either a hawk or eagle, Hokuto couldn't quite tell, but it was definitely a raptor, and had to be Seishirou. Part of Hokuto's brain couldn't help quipping _of course Sei-chan's shikigami is a predator_ , but the rest was alarmed as she watched Seishirou's shikigami dive to engage Subaru's in battle. Even in his vague state Subaru's power as an onmyouji was still immense, and Seishirou was the Sakurazukamori … she saw Shouhei's cormorant veer off, circling widely back towards the fight, and Hokuto made a snap decision. Whatever was about to happen between Subaru and Seishirou, it didn't need interference. Dropping the bags again and grabbing her own ofuda from her pocket, Hokuto changed direction to run out to the veranda, and vaulted the railing in a single leap.

She landed in the garden. It was dark and shadowed, in stark contrast to the area by the far stairs where bushes were burning. Glancing up, she found Shouhei's cormorant angling in above her head, obviously intent on Seishirou's shikigami which was fending off Subaru's white crow.  She would have to time things down to the millisecond – swiftly, Hokuto threw a set of five ofuda on the ground in as large a star as she could reach before stepping back, two fingers lifted in a focus and keeping her eyes on the cormorant. As Shouhei dived towards Seishirou, Hokuto spoke the activation. The five ofuda flashed.

The cormorant squawked. Adrenalin pumping, Hokuto blinked to find her cousin beating wings against glowing walls. For a moment she thought the cormorant would break through, but a kekkai was the one bit of onmyoujitsu she could cast with confidence, and it held. Above, Seishirou and Subaru's shikigami were whirling together. Hokuto realised that she was grinning, then tore away to pull herself back onto the veranda, retrieve the bags, and resume her path.

She reached the garage, which was deserted. It held two cars inside: the old Mercedes Shouhei typically used, and the Toyota Takehiko's family had brought to Kyoto. The third car, Katsumi's Honda, was parked out on the driveway facing the gate. Hokuto had only ever practiced driving in the Mercedes, but the Honda was already outside, and also the newest car. Grabbing the spare keys Hokuto dashed out, clicked open the Honda's central locking, and threw the duffel bags in the trunk. That done, she sprinted down the driveway to the gate. It was closed, of course, and the blackout meant it couldn't be opened remotely, but Seishirou had explained that electric gates had manual overrides as a fire safety measure. Locating the gate's control box, Hokuto fumbled fingers along the underside until she found what she hoped was the right switch, and pressed.

The gate creaked and swung open. Triumphant, Hokuto stood ready to fight in case someone came running. No one did, and when she poked her head out, Hokuto saw that the road was empty. Kakyou had done his part, and the escape route was clear. Now she just had to wait. Returning to the car, Hokuto hid in its shadow, tried to calm her racing pulse, and prayed that Seishirou would make it out with Subaru.

 

* * *

 

Shouhei couldn't move. The man looking down at him stood confident and straight, with a handsome poise evident even in the room's moonlight. Despite the cuts on his face, he was smiling in a friendly manner that was almost believable until Shouhei met the man's eyes. They glinted, hard as ice and inhumanly cold, as if the eagle had turned man rather than the other way round. Shouhei had never met the Sakurazukamori before, but he was all too familiar from Subaru's memories, in many uncomfortably intimate ways. Now he was here, very real, and very dangerous.

The Sakurazukamori's eyes flicked down from Shouhei's face. Too late, Shouhei thought of his position: him straddling Subaru who was dishevelled and unconscious, the messy blankets, the Sakurazukamori having been Subaru's lover. A possessive lover. Shouhei swallowed thickly. "It – It's not what it looks like—"

He stopped when he realised that probably the only thing worse than what he hadn't been doing, was what he had been doing. The Sakurazukamori's smile disappeared, which reminded Shouhei of one of Subaru's memories, when the Sakurazukamori stopped Subaru from saving the old man with the birds. Afterwards, the Sakurazukamori had nearly broken his word not to harm Subaru—

A fist cracked across his face, sending him to the floor. Pained and blinded, Shouhei had just enough presence of mind to curl up, trying to protect his head and chest as the Sakurazukamori kicked him again and again away from Subaru, until Shouhei recoiled back against the wall. For all his training, actual physical combat, let alone combat against an experienced killer, was well beyond Shouhei's experience, and terror locked his limbs like ice. _He's going to kill me,_ a detached part of his mind observed, _he's going to kill me and I will fail_ —

The blows stopped. Agonised, Shouhei looked out through cracked glasses to see the Sakurazukamori turning to Subaru, which finally gave him the impetus to move. "No," he croaked, grabbing black cloth, "no, I can't let you take him—"

The coat hem slipped from his fist as the Sakurazukamori turned back, and Shouhei sucked in a painful breath as the man knelt before him. Up close, the Sakurazukamori was younger than his first impression, around Shouhei's age in fact, and his rapid breaths were harsh and loud. Amber eyes raked over Shouhei with an intensity that Shouhei could only liken to first light over frozen peaks, and he wondered if Hiroyoshi Sato had seen the same before the Sakurazukamori struck—

_He has a name you know. Try using it sometime and remember he's a person as well._

A hand reached out over Shouhei's head. Panicked, Shouhei reached up trying to defend— "Don't look at me like that," he heard Sakurazuka say dryly, "I promised Hokuto-chan I wouldn't kill you."

Pressure sank over his bruised mind, which immediately recognised the working as a sleep spell. Biting the inside of his mouth against the onslaught, Shouhei crawled forward only to watch with heavy eyes as the Sakurazukamori stood and left. He saw Sakurazuka reach out to Subaru's face, he saw Sakurazuka gently gather Subaru into his arms, but then Shouhei's head was on the floor and he saw nothing but his own black failure. Whimpering, Shouhei slept.

 

* * *

 

Sumeragi Eri told herself she wasn't scared. She was training to be an onmyouji, and onmyouji couldn't be scared when bad things happened at night. Eiji was scared, but that was fine because he was little. Eri, on the other hand, was the eldest and had to both protect him and set an example. She was a Sumeragi. She would be brave.

Being brave was difficult when 'Kaa-san wasn't moving.

Eri huddled into the shadows around the corner. She wasn't supposed to be here, but after their father Kenichi had run out there was no one to make her and Eiji stay in their room. Eri had left first, and, not wanting to be be alone, Eiji had run after her, the two of them small, pale shadows in duck and rabbit-patterned pajamas. They stared down the corridor as their father bent over Katsumi, lifting her head and calling her name. His back was towards the children, so Eri couldn't see her mother's face, but she could definitely see the pool of blood by her father's knee. It looked black in the moonlight, not red at all.

There was a soft creak from the adjoining corridor behind the children. Kenichi didn't hear it, focused as he was on his wife and frantically shouting at Hana about an ambulance, which left only Eri and Eiji to turn around. "What was that?" Eiji whispered.

"I don't know," Eri whispered back, trying to sound grown up. "Maybe we should go check."

"No!" Frightened, Eiji grabbed her sleeve. "What if it's the bad guy?"

Eri's fingers creased the ofuda she had brought. "If it's the bad guy we should fight him. We have special powers, we can punish bad guys who hurt 'Kaa-san." Like Sailormoon and Lina Inverse and all her other favourite magical heroines, only Eri's powers were real and went back hundreds and hundreds of years like her family. Eri's ancestors had served emperors, her relatives were the best onmyouji in the land, and she was going to be just like them. Not scared. "You're a Sumeragi, that means you're special. Don't be such a baby."

She thought for a moment that Eiji wouldn't move, which was almost a relief since it would mean she would have to stay with him. Then he released her sleeve, scrunched up his face, and nodded. Creeping on tiptoe, Eri led him to the other corridor.

They reached the junction where Eri tried to switch on the light. The electricity still wasn't working. Eri told herself it was all right, there was enough moonlight and unlike Shouhei-Nii-chan she didn't wear glasses. Gripping Eiji's hand, Eri squinted through the dark first to the right which led to the storerooms and garage. The corridor in that direction was empty. Then she looked left. A strange man looked back.

Eri's eyes widened. The man was tall and wore a long black coat, and he was carrying an unconscious person over his shoulder. It took a moment for Eri to recognise the person as Subaru-sama, who, although broken and scary, was always distantly kind to her and Eiji, and, more importantly, was the head of their clan. The man in black had captured Eri's clan head.

The man in black was even scarier than Subaru-sama.

Eiji moved first. With a yell, he dashed out into the corridor and took a fighting stance in front of the strange man, hands steady despite his obvious fright. Eri followed without thinking, only the knowledge that this was her home, her family, and scary as the strange man was she couldn't let him take Subaru-sama, or let her brother face him alone. Giving a frantic yell of her own, Eri flung her charged ofuda.

The ofuda hit the man's chest and fell to the floor. Blinking, the man glanced at the dull paper between his feet, then back up to stare incredulously at the children still standing in his way. Unexpectedly, he smiled. Then he moved.

Eri gasped. Despite carrying Subaru-sama the strange man was fast, and stepping towards her left. Training kicked in to make her dodge, and she did, only to run straight into the man's free hand as it finished passing over Eiji. Her brother was already slumping to the floor with eyes closed. Terrified, Eri drew breath to scream only she couldn't, because she was suddenly incredibly sleepy, like having honey milk and medicine and a bedtime story all at once, and her body no longer wanted to move. As her eyes fell shut, a strong hand lowered her to the ground.

Deep breaths and dreams of monsters. Eri turned to face them and didn't see the strange man leave.

 

* * *

 

"Over here!" Hokuto shouted the moment Seishirou stepped outside. There was a pale, limp figure over his shoulder that made Hokuto's heart leap, almost enough to counter the panic she was feeling at the approaching sirens. "Door's open, get in!"

Seishirou didn't need to be told twice. Hurrying across the gravel, he laid Subaru down on the back seat of the Honda, then quickly climbed in and closed the door. Hokuto was already in the driver's seat with the engine running. "Go," Seishirou said calmly.

Hokuto hit the accelerator, only to squeak as the car jumped, throwing her against the seatbelt before stopping. The old Mercedes she was used to was nowhere near this sensitive – she heard a hiss from Seishirou and gritted her teeth before trying again. This time, the car rolled smoothly down the driveway, picking up speed as they approached the open gate. Leaning on the pedal, Hokuto turned the car out onto the road, and into the path of an oncoming ambulance.

Red lights wailed and filled her vision. With a yelp, Hokuto yanked the steering wheel and swerved with enough force to be partly jolted out of her seat. For a moment she glimpsed the ambulance driver's horrified face in her headlights as he also swerved, thankfully in the opposite direction, then there was only the empty road and plenty of space to regain control. "Are you all right?" Hokuto demanded shakily.

"I'm fine." Amber eyes glinted in the rear-view mirror, along with the last of the ambulance's flashing lights. "How much driving have you done again?"

"I was going to go for the Class One next week." A sign whizzed past indicating the speed limit was forty kilometres an hour, but given the circumstances Hokuto made herself push past her pounding nerves, and the speedometer towards seventy. "How's Subaru?"

"Unconscious. Not by me, your cousin Kitajima did something just as I arrived."

Hokuto's heart clenched, but she didn't dare turn to look as she rounded a corner. She could, however, see Seishirou in the rearview mirror as he leaned intently over Subaru to check on him. "Any idea what kind of something?"

"The memory blocking spell, presumably."

"Presumably?"

"This isn't exactly ideal conditions to make a full assessment. Keep your eyes on the road."

"I am!" Mostly – the passing street lights were picking out Seishirou's dark expression like a fascinating stop-motion film. At least she was no longer hearing sirens. "That ambulance – did you kill anyone?"

"No. But that could change if the injured don't get to hospital quickly." Seishirou glanced up to meet Hokuto's ashen face in the mirror. "You did say I could hurt where necessary."

"Was it?"

"You know your family."

"...Right." Now that he was looking at her, Hokuto could see that Seishirou's face was scratched and bleeding. Oddly, she felt proud that her family had given Seishirou a good fight, but it was quickly overtaken by dread and guilt. If any of her relatives did die, while it would be by Seishirou's hand, Hokuto was the one who had let him in. But Seishirou hadn't _left_ anyone dead as he could have easily done, and that had to count for something, right? "Who did you run into?"

Seishirou told her clinically. Grand-aunt Nuriko, cousin Hiroshi, grand-aunt Hana, cousin Katsumi, Shouhei, and— "The _kids_ tried to stop you?" Hokuto exclaimed, horrified.

"Your family's training obviously doesn't cultivate self-preservation. Don't worry, I left them sleeping, not hurt."

"Unlike the others." The Katsura River was behind them now, and the Honda rapidly ate up the roads Hokuto had memorised. Being past midnight the traffic lights ran mostly in her favour, the buildings of south-west Kyoto were largely dark, and other cars were few and far between. Hokuto dared to increase their speed a little more on the straights.  "I can't believe Shouhei didn't fight back."

"He was the smart one. And he managed to resist my sleep spell for a short while, despite the sakanagi."

"You sound impressed."

"Hardly. But I recognise skill when I see it."

In the rearview mirror, Seishirou was leaning over Subaru again. Hokuto couldn't see what he was up to. "What are you doing," she demanded. Seishirou made no reply. "Sei-chan, what are you doing to Subaru?"

Seishirou leaned forward and between the front seats. "Watch out for the next turn," he said evenly, gazing at the road ahead. "Just after the next traffic light."

"...Uh huh." Narrow-eyed, Hokuto glanced and noted the strange smile on his face. "Were you touching my brother?"

"A small car does make contact unavoidable."

Hokuto realised she was grinning. The three of them, finally together. "Pervert."

She reached the traffic light, which kindly turned green in time for her to go through, and slowed down for the next right turn. Here, the buildings were less dense, and soon gave way to trees lit sporadically by lamplight. The silhouette of Arashi-yama blocked out the stars above. "What is this shrine we're heading to, exactly?" Hokuto asked, slowing the car further.

"Not one of any importance. Turn there."

The turn Seishirou indicated started off as asphalt, but after a few hundred metres became a dirt road leading into the trees on the mountainside. No lamps could be seen there, and Hokuto gingerly drove forward wondering why Seishirou had been so particular about this location. Eventually, the Honda's headlights picked out the shape of a torii in faded red, beside which was a white sedan, in a small clearing of pine trees. Hokuto parked alongside and switched off the car engine, but left the headlights on low. As she breathlessly exited the car, a shadow stepped out from behind the torii pillar. "You made it," said Kakyou, relieved.

Hokuto couldn't contain herself, and ran to grab Kakyou in a fierce hug. "So did you," she whispered. "We all made it."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm shaking all over, but I'm fine, not hurt at all." She pulled away so she could grin into Kakyou's face, which was flushed even in the cold night air. "I can't believe we got out!"

"Technically we're still in Kyoto, so don't celebrate yet," Seishirou cautioned, also exiting the car and tapping out a cigarette. He closed the car door carefully; inside on the back-seat, Subaru was still unconscious. "Any trouble, Kuzuki-kun?"

"Not at all. Your illusions worked perfectly." Kakyou pulled a sheaf of black ofuda out of his coat pocket. "Here's the rest."

Seishirou approached and took it. "Were you followed?"

"The guards shouldn't wake until morning, so no, unless there was a shikigami."

"My shikigami didn't sense any such pursuit," Seishirou said, lighting his cigarette, "and even if any of the Sumeragi sent out a shikigami, it couldn't enter this shrine without permission. Still, we shouldn't stay here long."

"Why can't a Sumeragi shikigami enter without permission?" Hokuto asked curiously.

"Does it matter? Give me the car keys, Kuzuki-kun."

Kakyou glanced over Seishirou's injuries. "You're okay to drive to Tokyo?" he asked, pulling the keys out and handing them over.

"I'm perfectly fine to drive, but you're driving to Tokyo, not me."

"Then why did you want the car keys?"

"Because I'm driving to Kanazawa."

Kakyou's empty hand froze, and he and Hokuto both stared. "Wait, what?" Hokuto exclaimed. "I thought we were all going to Tokyo together!"

"I'm changing the plan. You and Kuzuki-kun will go to Tokyo in your family's car, and I will take Subaru to Kanazawa in the other."

"No. Absolutely not." Hokuto placed herself in front of Seishirou, not at all intimidated by the weirdness of his eyes in the headlights and cigarette smoke, and absolutely furious at how easily he had made his announcement. "Why do we have to split up? And why Kanazawa of all places?"

"Your grandmother is going to be looking for you and Subaru. Especially for Subaru. She will expect you and Subaru to stay together, and she will expect you to go to Tokyo. Subaru, on the other hand, needs a safe, quiet space, and time to deal with whatever has been done to him. Kanazawa has that."

"How do you know!"

"I grew up there."

Hokuto blinked, momentum lost. "You … you have family in Kanazawa?"

"Certainly not. But there is a house, which is private and secure, and under my control."

He said it so casually, like having a childhood home was the most normal thing in the world, which, yes, it was, but this was Seishirou, the Sakurazukamori, who in Hokuto's mind had always just _been_. She glanced at Kakyou, who looked just as taken aback as she did, before recovering enough to say, "But even if it's better to take Subaru to Kanazawa, why just you? Subaru needs me, if you want to make my family think we're in Tokyo, Kakyou can drive the car there while I go to Kanazawa with you."

"Your family are onmyouji, Hokuto-chan. They'll be searching with shikigami and more, and since your powerful grandmother is a direct relative it would be smarter to plan for when she locates you, not if. Now, I can conceal Subaru, but it will take great effort on top of whatever needs to be done to undo your cousin's meddling in Subaru's mind. That undoing is going to take some days, if not weeks. I can't spare the extra effort to hide you as well, and you can help best by making your family focus on Tokyo, because the more time they waste looking there, the more time I have to deal your brother." Seishirou raised an eyebrow. "You're also acting as if you have a choice in the matter. You don't. Stand in my way, and I'll take you out."

Hokuto glared. "You wouldn't."

"Yes, he would," warned Kakyou. "But Sakurazuka has a point. I'm not an onmyouji, I can't begin to imagine what has been done to Subaru-san, but having been a Dreamgazer I know how complex the mind is. Subaru-san has been under this spell for five years. Hiding him somewhere with as much time as possible to recover makes sense." Kakyou's lips thinned. "But I don't agree with making Hokuto-chan a target."

"Not a target, a distraction," Seishirou clarified. "I can give Hokuto-chan something that will make her harder to locate, so although the Sumeragi may trace her to Tokyo, they won't know precisely where. I'm sure the two of you are smart enough to find ways to hide in the city."

It was increasingly apparent that Seishirou had planned this from the beginning. "But Subaru needs me," Hokuto pleaded. "You have no idea what the past five years have been like, let alone how to deal with Subaru as he is now. And right now, _Subaru does not know you_.

"Everything the two of you share, that year in Tokyo, your other life – as far as Subaru is concerned they never happened. You don't have a relationship. He doesn't know that he loves you, all he knows is what he's been told by Obaa-chama and Shouhei: you're the Sakurazukamori, our family enemy, and you once tried to kill him in Tokyo. Which is all true. Obaa-chama doesn't need to lie to make Subaru hate and fear you."

"I thought you said he still remembers unconsciously," Kakyou pointed out.

"I did. But I didn't say what Obaa-chama wants to do, which is to erase Subaru's memories of Sei-chan entirely. That was Shouhei's idea, and since Shouhei is the one with the psychology degree, it's been his task to find a way to make it happen with onmyoujitsu. I don't know how far he's gotten, but you said that Shouhei was doing something to Subaru just as you arrived. There's a chance that instead of the blocking spell, he may have cast an erasing spell."

To this Kakyou's eyes widened, while Seishirou stood very, very still, almost more spirit than man in the low headlights and shrine's dark. Hokuto pressed on. "Either way, if you take Subaru to Kanazawa without me, he'll have nothing familiar, and no one he trusts. You'll fight, and Subaru won't hold back, and then who knows what will happen. He needs me, and you need me to talk to him."

Seishirou stirred. "Maybe. But phones exist for a reason; you don't need to actually be there." He dropped his cigarette onto the dirt road and crushed it beneath his shoe. "We're wasting time. I'm leaving."

He took a step back towards the Honda, and Hokuto instantly blocked his way. Seishirou calmly looked down into her defiant glare. "Do you really think you can stop me, Hokuto-chan?"

"I won't let you take Subaru without me."

"I don't care."

His hand flashed out, and, despite expecting it, Hokuto was taken aback at its speed and strength. _I allowed you the first_ , she remembered, heart in mouth as she dodged at the last moment, knowing she couldn't defeat the Sakurazukamori but trying to at least snatch the car keys—

Kakyou lunged to grab Seishirou's arm. "Stop it, both of you!" he snapped as Hokuto and Seishirou stared at him. "There's no need to fight. Sakurazuka, take Subaru-san to Kanazawa, I'll get Hokuto-chan to Tokyo."

Hokuto gaped. "Are you siding with him?"

"He's not going to change his mind, and he won't hesitate to hurt you. Or worse." Releasing his hold, Kakyou pushed Seishirou away from Hokuto and placed himself between them. "I won't let that happen again."

"Smart man," Seishirou murmured. He resumed walking towards the Honda.

" _No!_ " Wildly, Hokuto tried to shove past Kakyou, only to be caught and held as she struggled— "I won't – I have to stay with Subaru—"

Kakyou gripped her shoulders. "Listen to me. Hokuto-chan, _listen to me._ " Frantic, she met his eyes. "You can't beat him. Not without getting killed, which he'll do without hesitation. However he's changed, it's only in regards to your brother – nobody else matters." Kakyou's voice cracked. "Please, Hokuto-chan, he already killed you in that first life, I couldn't bear it happening again in this one."

His thumbs were rubbing nervous circles below her clavicle. Hokuto wanted to throw them off and continue after Seishirou, only to realise she was beginning to tremble uncontrollably. Over Kakyou's shoulder, she could see Seishirou lifting her unconscious twin out of the Honda, not even bothering to keep an eye on her. Kakyou was right. And Seishirou was taking Subaru away.

Tears began to stream down Hokuto's face. Quickly Kakyou hugged her, not offering words as she shook and sobbed with the weight of it all, what she had done, the uncertainty of tomorrow, whether Subaru would recover, her fear of never seeing her twin again … she felt Kakyou's arms tighten, and she tangled her fingers in his jacket, listening to his heart skip against her chest. When she couldn't cry any more, she stayed there, leaning heavily against Kakyou. He didn't say anything, only held her, and for that she was grateful.

Finally, she was able to stand straight again. Kakyou watched her uncertainly, and she tried to smile as she wiped her eyes. Nearby, Seishirou was now exchanging the travel bags, and Hokuto watched him close the trunk of the rental car with a thump. He must have sensed her, for he glanced up to meet her gaze. Then he came over. "Here," he said, reaching into his jacket's inside pocket. "For concealment."

His hand hovered warily between them offering a single black ofuda. Aware of Kakyou beside her, Hokuto swallowed the impulse to slap it away and instead asked, "How does it work?"

"You have to keep it on or least near you. It can't negate your connection to your grandmother, but it will prevent her from pinning you down to a specific location. More distant relatives and unrelated onmyouji will not be able to sense your presence. I'm sure you already know to keep it safe and undamaged."

"Obviously." She took the ofuda, not without some sullenness, and put it in the pocket of her black leather jacket which she then zipped up. That secure, she took a deep breath before shakily drawing herself up. "I want you to promise. Promise me that you will give me the phone number for your Kanazawa house, and that you'll let me speak with Subaru every day. Promise me that you will take care of him and make him remember who he is. And promise me that when you do, you'll bring him back to Tokyo where we can all be together."

He was no longer wearing his long coat, but that didn't make him any less imposing. "And if I can't do those things?" Seishirou asked.

She flinched at the implications of that. "Then promise that ... you won't make any big decisions without involving me."

"Very well, I promise. Although I won't know the phone number of the house until I get there." His eyes flicked to Kakyou. "Presuming that you'll be staying with Kuzuki-kun, I'll call his phone from Kanazawa."

"Of course Hokuto-chan can stay with me," Kakyou said firmly. "Give me a pen and I'll write down my contact details."

Hokuto watched as once again Seishirou produced his silver pen, before suddenly remembering something that made her run to open the Honda's trunk and find her duffel bag. There was now a white and navy sports bag beside it which had to be Kakyou's, instead of the grey bag she had packed for Subaru. Unzipping her bag, she dug past the few favourite clothes and other possessions she had packed until she found a small drawstring pouch that clinked gently as she lifted it. She brought it back to the others and held it out to Seishirou. "You'll need this," she said shortly.

Seishirou raised an eyebrow, but accepted the pouch. Opening it, he visibly blinked when he pulled out a pair of glasses and a miniature scent bottle— "I got it right, didn't I?" Hokuto asked in challenge. "Aramis JHL? Though I had to add some blood for it to be perfect."

"You have a good nose." Seishirou turned his old glasses over in his hand. "Why did you keep this?"

"Memories aren't just mental," she said, watching Seishirou's strange smile as he put the glasses and bottle back in the pouch. "They may help with Subaru, your cologne especially. The smell of it calms him down. Are you going to stop me from saying goodbye to him?"

"I have no reason to." He slung the bag over his wrist and pulled out keys to click the rental car open. "But don't drag it out."

She was running over before he had finished. Flinging open the rental car's back door, she found her twin lying on the seat deathly still, eyes closed and breathing in deep, almost coma-like slumber. He was covered in Seishirou's long black coat, Hokuto realised as she kneeled, and she smiled tearfully as she touched Subaru's cheek. "Hey, brother-mine," she whispered, "I said I'd take you on a trip somewhere, and I have. We're out. And now your dreams are coming true.

"Sei-chan is going to take care of you now. I won't be there, but we'll talk, every day, and I'll explain everything that I never could before. I wait for you in Tokyo. I want you to return whole and happy, and you will, I know it. And then we'll all to be together as we should have been."

Leaning down, Hokuto kissed Subaru's forehead, trying not to cry again as she got to her feet. She found Kakyou standing behind her, looking at Subaru with an expression that was both pity and curiosity. "It – it's the first time I've seen him in person," he explained awkwardly. "I hope it won't be the last."

"It won't. I'm sure of it."

Her nails dug the words into her palms. Kakyou saw, but thankfully didn't say. "Would it be better if I drive?" he asked, and Hokuto nodded. "Okay."

He turned her around and gently guided her to the Honda. Once Hokuto looked over her shoulder at Subaru, but with Kakyou's hand on her arm, she couldn't turn back. They passed Seishirou on the way. "Drive carefully," was all the Sakurazukamori said.

"You too." Kakyou didn't offer a hand or bow, but he did pause for Hokuto.

Hokuto looked at Seishirou. Seishirou simply looked back. Lips thinning, Hokuto gave him a single nod.

After that, she tried not to think much. She knew she sat down in the Honda's passenger seat, she knew that Kakyou got in the driver's chair, and she knew she saw Seishirou move out their headlights and into the dark. She knew Kakyou turned the car keys. And then she knew that they were driving away, and that she was leaving Subaru behind.

Dark trees blurred past the cold window. Hokuto shivered, vaguely aware of Kakyou quietly turning the heater on. Then she curled up, closed her eyes, and did her best not to think of anything at all.

 

* * *

 

The Honda's lights disappeared into the trees, finally leaving the shrine as it should be: quiet, dark, with the moon and stars watching above. Already Seishirou found himself breathing more easily. Once his eyes adjusted, he retrieved the cigarette butt he had dropped folding it into a scrap of paper for later disposal, moving deliberately slow as a bulwark against the restlessness in his chest. From its perch by the main road, his shikigami informed that the ex-Dreamgazer and Hokuto had turned off for the highway to Tokyo. Placing the paper and the drawstring pouch in his pocket, Seishirou headed to the rental car.

The forest seemed to hold its breath as Seishirou knelt to touch Subaru's face. Subaru didn't react at all, with only the slow rise and fall of the black coat indicating that he was alive. Closing his eyes, Seishirou invoked a whisper of the Within spell to lightly probe Subaru's mind, ensuring that he remained fast asleep. At that surface level there did not appear to be anything wrong, but Seishirou did not yet risk going deeper to assess otherwise. Certainly he couldn't tell what spell Kitajima Shouhei had cast.

Soft hair beneath his palm. Seishirou combed his fingers through to trace the curve of Subaru's jaw, his restlessness quickening to an aching thrill as he thought of how long it had been, and all the times before: brushing tears from Subaru's face, that fight at Nakano, or claiming him in sex. Seishirou now remembered everything, but Subaru remembered nothing. Possibly permanently. Grimly, Seishirou closed the passenger door, got into the driver's seat, and, after bowing to the shrine, started the car to go. Three, maybe three and a half hours drive to Kanazawa, on top of an already long night. In his mind, the Sakura seemed resigned.

 

* * *

 

_He walked through Sumeragi House in the misty morning light, taking two steps to her one, his hand gripped in a guiding hold. He had never been in a house such as this, so large and old and with pieces of paper on the wooden walls, papers that shone in ways he could not explain—_

_"So this is him," a voice greeted, and Shouhei blinked up at the regal old woman seated before him. She was dressed in kimono of white and black, with an obi dyed camellia red. "He should have been brought earlier."_

_"Earlier he was just sensitive like me," his mother replied calmly, "and I could teach him. Now it's obvious he's more special. I wouldn't be here otherwise."_

_"It is good that you are."_

_"Only for his sake. It's backhanded to invite us to live here without recognition."_

_"And yet the invitation was made and accepted." Lady Sumeragi's eyes glittered. "Come here, child."_

_His mother released his hand. Obediently, Shouhei bowed as he had been instructed, then went up to the old woman who examined his face. "You look like him," she murmured, "but you are very unlike. You have humility to go with your power. All you need now is the instruction." As she spoke she grew tall and thin, kimono sleeves spreading until a red-crowned crane towered over his head. "You will learn that here."_

_Her wings curved around him, hiding his mother and muffling Shouhei's gasp. Frightened, he pushed past the feathers and stepped, taller, back into the room, where he found a pair of small children where his mother had been. They stared up at him with identical green eyes and wore identical white robes. "You're our cousin, right?" one asked hesitantly._

_"We're not supposed to call him that," the other whispered._

_Confused, Shouhei looked back at the crane. "Help me protect him," she pleaded, stretching her suffocating wings._

_Him? He couldn't tell the children apart, they looked exactly alike, but then he realised one child wore gloves while the other didn't. He kneeled down. "Are you the one in danger?" he asked the gloved child. "What am I to protect you fr—"_

_The shining papers shattered, making the walls of the house explode outwards. Beyond there was nothing but black space, without floor or sky. The red-crowned crane had disappeared, but her plea, that rang in Shouhei's mind, and he turned trying to find the children, only to find them grown. "Why would he want your protection?" Hokuto asked, alluringly sleek in dark jeans and jacket. "He doesn't need it."_

_There was something behind Subaru. Skeletal hands stretched out from the dark to fold around Subaru's bare shoulders, and Subaru did not resist. Nor did he flinch when a death's head followed, closing in to press a fleshless grin to his neck._ Wrong, wrong, _Shouhei's heart thumped, and he ran forward— "It's his decision," Hokuto said calmly, placing a palm firmly against Shouhei's chest. "And it makes him happy. Why would you protect him from that?"_

It's wrong, _Shouhei wanted to say, but couldn't as Hokuto pressed a finger over his lips. Beyond, Subaru had lifted a hand to the death's head, which bowed to bite the tips of Subaru's gloves and pull. The gloves came off Subaru's hands with sensual slowness, and Subaru's eyes lit up, clear and bright over an open smile. His other hand cradled death's cheek. Shouhei had never seen his cousin like that before, a thought that came with a choking rush of guilt—_

Groggily, Shouhei opened his eyes. He ached all over, which nearly overwhelmed him until he centred it to several points: his chest, his arms, his shins, and the side of his face. Then he remembered why he ached in the first place. With a gasp, his eyes flew open and he sat up, only to wish he hadn't when found himself in his bedroom, in his futon, with Lady Sumeragi seated on the tatami at his side. "You're awake," she said curtly. "Good."

Shouhei scrambled for his cracked glasses. "Sumeragi-sama, when did you—"

"Nearly two hours ago. It's now past ten in the morning." The twelfth Sumeragi head's face was pinched. "What happened."

His chest tightened not just with pain but also fear, a different sort to the one he had experienced last night. "The Sakurazukamori – Subaru-san, he was—"

"I know the Sakurazukamori has taken Subaru-san!" Lady Sumeragi snapped, and Shouhei cringed. "Tell me _how_."

Shouhei did so, trying to stay calm. He was only partially successful, as with each sentence Lady Sumeragi's face grew more and more rigid. "I managed to renew the mental blocks, but as always it's just a matter of time before they wear down again," he said at the end, not daring to meet her eyes. "However, we've never had a situation where the blocks wear down significantly, let alone entirely. I have no idea what would happen at that point, but it's possible it could be too much on Subaru-san's already fragile mind. And that's before considering what the Sakurazukamori might do."

He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Lady Sumeragi's hands clutched on her lap tight enough to tear the kimono fabric. "You said Hokuto-san helped him?" she asked.

"It was a thoroughly planned attack, we were taken completely off-guard, and he specifically mentioned Hokuto-san. She must have met him before somehow, I don't know when. Probably when her guard said she slipped away at university, which I admit, I didn't think twice about since she's done it so often before." Shouhei bowed his head deeply. "That's my failure."

"It's not your failure, it's Hokuto-san's betrayal." Lady Sumeragi's voice trembled. "To ally herself with the Sakurazukamori – I knew she wasn't happy, but I never imagined that she actually hated her family."

"She—" He broke off, trying to put his instinctive defensiveness into words. _She doesn't hate us_. _Angry, yes, and estranged and desperate, but hate, no. She's not like that. She can't be like that. Could she?_

"Hurting her family is one thing, but her _brother_. Her _twin_. How can she deliberately put Subaru-san back in the hands of the one who hurt and abused him? The man who wants to kill—" She broke off, and Shouhei stared as Lady Sumeragi covered her eyes with the sleeve of her silver kimono. It shook silently, but when it was lowered, Lady Sumeragi's face was hard and dry. "We have to find Subaru-san. Whatever it takes, we must find him and Hokuto-san as soon as possible."

"Of course." Easier said than done when his body wanted to stay in bed, but Shouhei gritted his teeth and made himself pull the quilt away. A quick inspection identified the injuries beneath his pajamas: mottled bruises on his limbs, another on his chest, and what felt like a black eye. Nothing broken or fractured as far as he could tell, which meant he was incredibly lucky, unlike … "Who did he kill," Shouhei asked, already dreading the answer.

"No one. Katsumi-san is in hospital for a broken nose, as is Hiroshi-san for broken ribs and concussion. Nuriko-san is already awake and says she's unhurt other than being knocked out and lingering sakanagi. Takeshi-san, on the other hand, has a bad sakanagi migraine, and his father has fallen ill. The children were put to sleep."

The scholar's corpse blinked out of mind. Shouhei tried to make sense of what he had heard, but then realised that Lady Sumeragi's hands were still unsteady, and not just from emotion. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

"Shattered wards are hardly the worst sakanagi I've endured." She moved to stand, and Shouhei's eyes widened as she did so with the aid of a walking stick. "Come. I've called everyone to a meeting, and you were the last to wake."

He wanted to protest, to insist that she rest and recover from sakanagi and whatever exhaustion she had pushed herself to in order to return from Tokyo so quickly. Instead, he got to his feet with a wince, found a quilted haori to pull on, and followed Lady Sumeragi out into the hall. He had to slow his steps to match her halting pace, but didn't dare offer support.

The house buzzed with nervousness, yet looked oddly normal. There was nothing damaged, the servants were hurrying about on their morning duties, and the autumn sun was shining. Then Shouhei looked out into the garden and saw scorch marks on the veranda, and also heard something new: the singing of sparrows. The wards that had kept birds from crossing the estate's walls for five years were gone.

Other sounds made themselves heard. Nuriko's voice was the strongest over a mess of murmurs that soon resolved into individuals: Takehiko, Hana, Takeshi, and Kenichi. Most of them sounded strained, tired, fearful, or a combination of all three. "—strength is one thing," Nuriko was saying, "but his focus is formidable. No wonder he defeated us."

"Only because he took us by surprise," Takehiko said, weakly but still with disgust. "In an honourable fight that _eta_ would fare differently – enough, Hana-san, I'll be fine—"

"You're sick. You shouldn't have pushed yourself to return so quickly."

"Try telling that to our clan head."

"Is it true that Hokuto-san helped him?" Kenichi demanded.

"It is," Takeshi growled. "She attacked the security guards who say she was carrying bags, and the ambulance driver said she nearly drove your car into him."

"Don't remind me about the car," Kenichi groaned. "But still, why would Hokuto-san help our enemy?"

"She's always been a flighty, spoiled, rebellious child. Remember the fit she threw when an _omiai_ was suggested? Who knows, maybe the girl's silly enough to idolise or even fall in love with the Sakurazukamori."

"Don't be ridiculous, Takeshi-san," Nuriko retorted. "No matter how troubled Hokuto-san may be, she would never betray her twin—"

The discussion died as Shouhei opened the door for Lady Sumeragi. Balefully, she looked at each of her seated relatives in turn, and Shouhei, too, studied them as he slipped past to the back of the hall. Nuriko looked pale and tired, but was otherwise alert. Kenichi was exhausted with worry, no surprise with his wife in hospital and two probably frightened children. Despite his feverish flush, Takehiko was ignoring Hana's concern, which to a lesser extent was also directed at their son Takeshi, who was bent over holding a towel against his head. Injured, shaken, ill – and yet they were all alive. _I promised Hokuto-chan I wouldn't kill you,_ Shouhei remembered, which on one hand was depressing proof of Hokuto's betrayal, but also at odds with the Sakurazukamori's lethal reputation, which meant … something to ponder later. Right now, Lady Sumeragi was setting down her walking stick and stiffly taking her place on the dais. Wincing at his bruises, Shouhei quietly took his place in seiza and bowed his head. The look in Lady Sumeragi's eyes was terrible as she began to speak.

"You all know what happened last night. The Sakurazukamori, our hated, historical enemy, attacked us completely without provocation, right here in our ancestral home. What's more, it appears that the goal of his attack was to kidnap our thirteenth clan head."

"But why kidnap?" Hana asked. "Doesn't the Sakurazukamori typically assassinate?"

There was a murmur from some of the others. "We do not know why the Sakurazukamori wants Subaru-san," Lady Sumeragi said icily, which Shouhei supposed was true – why such dramatic action after five years? "But we can be sure that it can only be to cause harm. Just as we have no love for the Sakurazukamori, so he has none for us and our rightful condemnations of his abuses. We are the pre-eminent, respected stewards of onmyoujitsu, whereas for the Sakurazukamori there is no depravity too great, and no taboo that cannot be broken. To him, murder is but natural instinct, as is corruption of the innocent. We have likely now seen this with Hokuto-san."

"Are you saying that the Sakurazukamori manipulated Hokuto-san to help him?" Takeshi asked.

"Hokuto-san betraying her brother is utterly out of character," said Nuriko thoughtfully. "If she was manipulated or influenced somehow, it would make far more sense. Though I had never thought that she could be so weak-minded."

To this Shouhei opened his mouth to object— "Even the strongest mind can be undone by the right pressure," Lady Sumeragi said, "and as I said, there is no limit to the Sakurazukamori's baseness. In any event, this family must now come together with one goal: to find and rescue Subaru-san and Hokuto-san as soon as possible."

"We should call the police," Kenichi declared. "Call them back, I mean. I know you sent them away when you arrived, Sumeragi-dono, but Sakurazukamori or not a crime has taken place—"

"The police will be of no help to us," Lady Sumeragi cut in. "They're not onmyouji, and I will not waste innocent men's lives sending them after an assassin who, don't forget, has corrupt allies in high places. More importantly, I will not have word of this crisis spread outside this family. We are Sumeragi. Subaru-san and Hokuto-san's reputations, _our_ reputation, must be maintained."

No one protested this. Likely, all of them agreed. Shouhei didn't, he wanted to point out that any help was better than no help, that the police had resources and experience in tracking missing persons, but dared not speak given the look on Lady Sumeragi's face. Her voice and hands were visibly trembling as she continued. "As Subaru-san and Hokuto-san's grandmother, I can track them to some extent. The logical place to look is Tokyo where the Sakurazukamori has familiarity of territory and crowds to hide. I will also pick one or two of you to go to Tokyo. When does Katsumi-san get out of hospital?"

She aimed this question at Kenichi, who jumped. "Ah, it's just a broken nose, and she phoned earlier to say she should be sent home by tonight."

"Good. We will need every onmyouji on hand to search with shikigami and more. We—" She broke off, closing her eyes for a moment as if to centre herself. "We will take no more client cases until this is resolved. Any current cases must be put on hold. We _will_ find my grandchildren, and the Sakurazukamori too. When we do, we'll kill him."

A rush of gasps filled the room. "Is that wise, cousin?" asked Nuriko. "We don't – pre-meditated murder is not something we Sumeragi do."

"Certainly we're no good at it," Takehiko pointed out. "In all the centuries of this feud, I don't think there's a single instance of our family managing to kill any of the Sakurazukamori."

"There's a first time for everything," Lady Sumeragi snapped. Shouhei winced, but then something in his brain niggled. Something he had seen, something Subaru had heard, something about the Sakurazukamori being killed … "And with the life of our thirteenth clan head at stake, this is one death that would be completely justified."

No one dared challenge this. Shouhei, too, could not disagree, but the niggle he had felt inexplicably led to something else: the memory of Sakurazuka standing over him with eyes cold as winter's dawn. Shouhei had truly thought that the man would kill him, but not only had that not happened, thinking back he had never felt any malice from Sakurazuka, only a simple determination to achieve a goal. And when Sakurazuka finally had that goal in reach, he had touched Subaru's face like it was the most precious thing in the world. The thought made Shouhei bite his lip, but Lady Sumeragi was not finished. "You all know that this is not the first time that the Sakurazukamori has attacked Subaru-san," she said quietly. "You also all know that Subaru-san has never truly healed from that first attack. I don't have to tell you that for his well-being we must save him from the Sakurazukamori as soon … as soon as …"

Shouhei's eyes widened. Lady Sumeragi's hand was now trembling uncontrollably. "Cousin?" Nuriko exclaimed.

"I told her," Takehiko was muttering. "I told her not to push herself—"

Already Shouhei was on his feet. Shoving past the others, he dashed onto the dais just in time to catch Lady Sumeragi as she slumped over, eyes closed. As the others cried out and Hana ordered Kenichi to call an ambulance, Shouhei frantically tried to wake Lady Sumeragi and fight the terror flooding his chest. He failed at both.

 

**Kanazawa**

Warm. He sensed sunlight on his face, but felt no urge to get up. He never did. The days he woke to were always filled with mist, and the people around him were shadows. Detached. Yet for all his listlessness, his body still lived, and it had needs and cycles too fundamental to be denied. He was awake now, and could no longer sleep.

Subaru slowly opened his eyes. He was in bed, but in an unfamiliar room. The walls were white, plain and unadorned other than exposed frames of dark wood. They glowed almost blindingly in the light falling from a large, barred window. The bed he was in was also unfamiliar, not his futon but a mattress in a simple, low wooden frame, and he was covered with a heavy quilt that smelled faintly of storage. There was a man sitting at the foot of the bed.

With a gasp, Subaru sat up. The man was tall, dressed in dark clothes, and was carefully watching him. A man whose face Subaru did not know, but made his chest clench and knot. Subaru named the reaction as fear, and blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

"Who are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Tsukino Usagi and Lina Inverse are the heroines of Sailor Moon and Slayers, respectively.
> 
> \- Japanese driver’s licenses come in three types: provisional, Class One, and Class Two. Provisional is the learner's permit, and holders must display learner's plates and be accompanied by a Class One licence holder. Class One licence is the ordinary driver's licence for a private vehicle, and Class Two is the licence for commercial passenger vehicle drivers. Knowing that Seishirou definitely has a driver's licence, at least Hokuto is driving the getaway car under supervision!
> 
> \- The shrine isn't any shrine in particular, but is heavily inspired by one shrine I found on Mount Misen, on Miyajima Island on one of my Japan travels. My friend and I had gone to the top of Mt Misen, decided to walk down and took a wrong turn. A very wrong turn. One that took us almost to the other side of the island from the town and ferry port on Miyajima. Along the way we found this tiny, possibly abandoned shrine in the trees, complete with torii and three small buildings, but with all doors tightly shut and paint long gone. The whole place was completely silent, and even in full daylight it was an unsettling place to be.
> 
> \- Hokuto's black leather jacket is envisioned to be one of mine: short, sleek, soft black leather, with dull, dark gold hardware. Possibly not the most practical thing to wear for a nocturnal breakout, but this is Hokuto, even in such circumstances she can't help herself.
> 
> \- _Omiai_ (お見合い) is a traditional match-making meeting between two individuals to consider marriage.
> 
> \- _Eta_ (穢多, an abundance of filth) is a feudal-Japan era term for the outcaste class, or burakumin ([Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burakumin)). In the feudal era, the outcaste class was largely composed of those in impure occupations associated with death: executioners, undertakers, butchers, tanners, etc. (and their descendants are still socially discriminated against today). As an assassin, the Sakurazukamori would be easily be considered to be in this class, which could be reasonably seen as another source of the Sumeragi's hostility to the Sakurazukamori ie., the pure and righteous Sumeragi consider the Sakurazukamori as trash, foul and unclean, the impure bottom caste corrupting the onmyoujitsu tradition the Sumeragi uphold. To add insult to injury, instead of "knowing their place" (I note that eta were supposed to display signs of subservience when dealing with people of the higher caste, and unlike the higher castes could never change their status), the Sakurazukamori have the audacity to take pride in who they are and what they do, and be successful, supported, even respected. (The eta/burakumin idea also makes, at least to me, all the Tumblr fandom tags of Seishirou as "utter trash" rather hilarious and poignant).


	7. Fractures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years that Subaru had been prevented from thinking of him. Five years since Seishirou had walked away. Five years that, suddenly and fervently, Seishirou wished he could take back.

**December 1996**  
**Kanazawa**

Seishirou knew that Subaru didn't remember him. That didn't mean he was prepared to hear it.

The young man Seishirou thought of as his huddled in the quilt, limbs thin and face pale with fear as he tried to figure out where he was. Who Seishirou was. There was no recognition as Subaru's gaze darted over Seishirou, alive and frantic as an insect trapped by glass. Seishirou realised that his breath had stopped. "Who are you?" Subaru repeated shakily. "Where is this, what am I doing here?"

Seishirou made his hands unclench. "You're in my house," he replied, because they had to start somewhere, and made sure to smile. "It's far from Kyoto, and I've brought you here to heal."

Pale fingers twisted almost hard enough to tear the quilt, a gesture echoing of Subaru at sixteen. "Heal? But I have been healing, I've been getting better, Obaa-chan said so. Shouhei-san helps me. Where is he?"

Seishirou briefly thought back to the bespectacled man who had clutched his coat and re-weighed his promise not to kill any of the Sumeragi family. "He's not here. Neither is your grandmother. And if all goes well, you'll never see them again."

It was the wrong thing to say as Subaru drew himself up just enough to glare. "How dare you. I'm the thirteenth head of the Sumeragi clan, you can't just—" He broke off, the glare turning to shock. "You're the one who attacked the house last night. Who are you and what do you want with me?"

There it was again, that question, the complete lack of recognition. The ultimate wrong in the world. "My name is Sakurazuka Seishirou," Seishirou said at last, all his years of practiced calm coming in to bear. "You know that already, or at least you used to. As for what I want—"

He had to pause. There were so many things that could end that sentence, but only few that Seishirou was prepared to constrain in words. Claim. Own. Touch. He settled for the most pertinent. "I want you to remember who I am."

Subaru swallowed hard. His green eyes crawled over Seishirou's face; they were as wide as a child's, only instead of innocence they were filled with terror, and, it seemed, something darker as Subaru tried to think back. "You attacked the house. My family. There … was an eagle shikigami, so you're also an onmyouji. A powerful onmyouji. Sakurazuka." His eyes widened still further. "You're the Sakurazukamori."

"Correct."

Subaru had never said Seishirou's title like that before. As a matter of fact, yes, with anger and rage, yes, even sometimes contempt, but horror and revulsion, no. This Subaru did not know Seishirou, let alone what they shared. Once again, Seishirou had to remind himself to breathe—"You're going to kill me," Subaru was saying, and his scarred hands shook like leaves. "Finish the job you started all those years ago—"

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have already done so," Seishirou cut in, moving closer. His prey had never been afraid of death before, either. "I only want you to remember—"

"Don't touch me!"

The slap rang off the white walls. Seishirou's outstretched hand froze in mid-air where it had been deflected, and he stared as Subaru huddled against the far wall, the quilt pulled up to his neck in a trembling, protective shroud. Refusing to meet Seishirou's eyes.

Everything was wrong in a way that Seishirou could only liken to Subaru's blinding by the /Kamui/, but far, far worse. Seishirou knew that he wanted to fix it, except he didn't know how or even where to start. He lowered his hand. "Would it help if you spoke to Hokuto-chan?" he asked finally.

"Hokuto-chan?" Sharply, Subaru looked up and _now_ he met Seishirou's gaze. "Did you abduct her as well? If you've hurt my sister—"

At least some things didn't change. "Actually, your sister punched me, which is more than you're capable of right now." The slap Subaru had defended himself with had been fast but lacking in real strength, a far cry from the taut muscle Seishirou so often remembered clutching him in ecstasy. "And I didn't abduct her, she left willingly and helped me take you." Seishirou brought out the mobile phone he had bought prior to reaching Kanazawa, and until now had kept on the floor just under the low bed. "Ask her yourself."

He reached out to Subaru again, this time holding the phone. Subaru looked at it in disbelief, then back at Seishirou. "Is this a trick?" he demanded.

"Not at all." Seishirou pulled up Kakyou's number, the only number in the phone's contact list. He had already called it earlier, while Subaru was still unconscious, to keep his promise to Hokuto and confirm that she and the ex-Dreamgazer had arrived in Tokyo safely. Seishirou didn't, however, press dial. "Here."

For a few heartbeats, it seemed that Subaru wouldn't move. Then, gingerly, he stretched out and snatched the phone from Seishirou. Their fingers briefly touched; they were cold.

Seishirou kept smiling as Subaru hit the call button. He didn't know what else to do.

 

* * *

 

The mention of Hokuto was a lifeline, and Subaru desperately clutched it with both hands. This unknown place, this stranger who spoke of Hokuto with such familiarity, who kept looking at him in a way that made his stomach churn and revealed himself to be none other than the Sakurazukamori, it all had a nightmarish quality to it, only the room and sunlight were far too real. _The Sakurazukamori are masters of deception,_ Subaru recalled Lady Sumeragi saying as he pressed the call button, and while he told himself that it had to be some kind of trick, that his family's ancient enemy couldn't really ring up Hokuto like an old friend, at the same time he couldn't help but hope.

"Hello?"

The voice was male and unfamiliar. "Where's Hokuto-chan?" Subaru blurted out.

"Hokuto-chan? Who is th—oh." The voice's wariness instantly turned awkward. "Sumeragi Subaru-san?"

"Who are you?"

"I, ah—" There was an audible wince. "I take it that Sakurazuka hasn't explained things yet."

His hands, _bare_ hands, clenched around the phone. "You're a friend of the Sakurazukamori?"

"No! Well, I mean, we're obviously connected because of—actually, just speak to Hokuto-chan."

There were muffled sounds as the phone was presumably and hurriedly passed over. Finally, "Subaru?"

Even through distance and the phone's receiver Hokuto's voice was breathless. Subaru could have wept with relief. "Hokuto-chan!"

"Subaru! Oh, thank goodness, you're finally awake! Are you all right?"

"I'm unhurt, but…" He trailed off, glancing at the Sakurazukamori sitting at the edge of the futon just _looking_ at him. "Hokuto-chan, what's going on? Who's the man with you?"

"Sei-chan hasn't explained anything?"

 _Sei-chan_. "You know the Sakurazukamori?"

His voice had come out strangled, and elicited a hiss from the phone. "Subaru. Do you trust me?"

"Yes. Always."

"Good, because I need you to listen very carefully. Yes, I do know the Sakurazukamori. You know him too, very well in fact, but right now you don't remember because of Obaa-chama and Shouhei-san. They've been preventing you from remembering him for the past five years."

A shiver slithered over Subaru's skin. "That's impossible."

"I know how it sounds, but believe me, it's not impossible. You and I have known Sei-chan for years, even longer in your case, except Obaa-chama doesn't want you to know or think about him because …" He heard her take a deep breath. "Those dreams you have sometimes, of a man who sees and touches you like something special? He's not your imagination, he's real, and he's someone you love very much.

"He's Sakurazuka Seishirou, the man who is with you now."

For a moment Subaru couldn't move. "No," he said, and his voice sounded very distant. "That can't be."

"Subaru, it is, trust me—"

" _No!_ " The word came out high-pitched and cracked. "Absolutely not, even if I had someone I loved it wouldn't be him, it can't be him—"

" _Subaru!_ "

The phone fell to the bed. Subaru didn't notice; he had curled in on himself, pulse pounding as if trying to burst through his suffocating flesh. He had to get out, he had to hold on—he dug fingernails between ridges and lines, scratching, clawing, trying to find that one path which made sense—

Strong hands grabbed his wrists pulling his hands apart. Wild-eyed, Subaru looked up to see the Sakurazukamori's grim face too close to his, and his already racing heart tripped into utter panic. He tried to kick out only to tangle his legs in the quilt and fall backwards, pulling the Sakurazukamori down. The man fell on top of him crushing what little coherent thought Subaru had left; he was sobbing, hands trapped on either side of his head as he frantically struggled in the dark smelling blood and something hot and sharp—

Subaru froze. His eyes opened unseeing, still terrified but able to hear his heartbeat. The interruption was just enough that when his breathing started up again, it came more evenly, deepening, until eventually it slowed into something resembling calm. Infinitesimally, Subaru relaxed.

The phone was squawking nearby. Carefully, the Sakurazukamori lifted his head and his eyes closely searched Subaru's face. Subaru swallowed hard but otherwise didn't move, body limp and heavy, until eventually the Sakurazukamori released his wrists and got off him to reach for the phone. "It's all right, Hokuto-chan," the man said calmly, "he had a panic attack and tried to hurt himself, but everything's fine now."

As he stared up at the ceiling, Subaru's mind felt oddly quiescent. He wondered at it; he wasn't really listening to the phone conversation, but could hear enough of Hokuto's tone to know she didn't believe it. "Ask him yourself," the Sakurazukamori replied, "I'll put you on speaker. Do the same at your end." There was the beep from the phone.

"Subaru?"

Hokuto sounded about as scared as he was. Swallowing another breath, Subaru somehow pulled himself up, heading spinning for a moment until he was in a sitting position. He found the phone lying on the expanse of rumpled quilt between him and the Sakurazukamori who was intently watching him from the side of the futon. His hands were still unsteady, and there were angry red scratches on their backs. "I'm here," Subaru rasped. "I'm all right, I just—"

A sniffle from the phone made him stop. "You're not all right," Hokuto said tearfully, "I told Sei-chan I should have gone with you—"

"If you're thinking of catching a train here, don't," the Sakurazukamori cut in. "By now enough time has passed for your family to start getting their act together to search, and while Tokyo is large enough for a person to get lost in, the same cannot be said for here. I'm already taking a risk joining this spiritual space with Kuzuki-kun's apartment via phone calls."

"I know that!" Hokuto snapped at the same time Subaru asked, "Kuzuki-kun?"

"Ah, yes." The Sakurazukamori smirked. "You haven't been introduced yet. Say hello, Kuzuki-kun."

There was a cough from the phone. "Um, hi, Subaru-san," said the male voice from before.

"Subaru, this is Kuzuki Kakyou," Hokuto explained. "He's a friend of mine, I met him five years ago when we lived in Tokyo, and he and I kept in touch even after Obaa-chama took us to Kyoto." She sighed tiredly. "It turned out that he's also an acquaintance of Sei-chan's, but I think that explanation needs to be done at a later date. Right now, Subaru, just know that I'm fine and safe in Tokyo with a good friend I trust, so don't worry about me."

Subaru could feel a headache coming on; he couldn't remember the last time he had had to _think_ so much. "You're in Tokyo?" he repeated.

"Yes. I want you to join me here as soon as possible, but you can't do that until you're better. In order to do that you need to remember, not just Sei-chan but who you really are."

"I know who I am," Subaru protested, but it sounded faint even to his own ears.

"Yes, but you're so much more than just the thirteenth Sumeragi clan head. You had your own life in Tokyo, you adore animals, you're curious and too kind to people for your own good—and you love. You loved Sakurazuka Seishirou, and you wanted so much for him to love you in return …"

She trailed off as if words failed her. Subaru realised that he was digging fingers into the mattress and didn't dare look at the man sitting opposite. "But Hokuto-chan," he said, and it was a fragile plea. "He's the Sakurazukamori."

"Yes. He is. And five years ago, that didn't matter to you. The only reason why it does now is because Obaa-chama and Shouhei put a spell in your mind that prevents you from remembering him and the time you spent together." Hokuto's voice wavered briefly as if trying not to break. "You need to undo that spell. Once you do, everything will be all right. Sei-chan will help you, I'm sure."

Reluctant, Subaru glanced up and over the phone to the Sakurazukamori. The man sat calmly, legs folded as he leaned forward onto one hand which was planted next to the phone. His gaze was fixed on Subaru's face, which meant that Subaru inadvertently met the man's eyes. They were amber-gold, cool, and strangely light. Subaru quickly looked away, but felt his cheeks flush. None of this was visible to Hokuto, of course. "Just, just promise me that you'll give Sei-chan a chance," she was saying. "Give him a chance to help you, and trust that everything we're doing is for your own good. Can you do that, Subaru? For me, if nothing else?"

She sounded so small. Subaru forced his dry throat to form words. "I promise."

"Thank you." Hokuto let out an audible breath, or at least Subaru thought she did. "And Sei-chan?"

"What is it."

"Be patient with him. And don't forget your own promise."

"As if you'd let me." The Sakurazukamori held a finger over the phone. "I'll call you back, Hokuto-chan."

He ended the call before Hokuto could reply, leaving the room in heavy silence. Subaru instantly tensed further if that were possible, not daring to move as he tried to make everything sink in. Most of it wasn't. "Well," the Sakurazukamori began, and stopped.

Subaru's head was hurting. He wondered how many people the Sakurazukamori had killed so far, and whether he bothered to remember any of their faces. _Assassin. Eta. Murderer._ Lady Sumeragi's teachings had been unambiguous. Subaru couldn't believe that he could feel anything but revulsion for the man, but Hokuto had been so firm with her impossible story. Nothing was making sense.

The Sakurazukamori sighed. "I think that's quite enough excitement for the morning, don't you?" he said cheerfully, a tone so incongruous that Subaru had to look up and find the Sakurazukamori smiling in a way that seemed part imitation sun, part challenge. "Lying in bed is all well and good, but, for your information, unlike the Sumeragi Estate this house doesn't come with servants. In fact, the only living souls in this house are you and me." He stood up taking the phone with him. "I'm going to go out to do a few things. You have free run of the house, so make yourself comfortable; I anticipate that we're going to be here a while. Just don't try to leave the grounds."

The man's smile had turned hard at that last, and he seemed to expect Subaru to make some reply. Subaru refused to; despite his promise to Hokuto, he didn't want to drop his guard even to say a word to this devil who just upended his world. When it was clear nothing was forthcoming, the Sakurazukamori theatrically sighed again and crossed to the room's door which he slid open. "We'll talk later," he said, not turning, and then stepped out.

The door closed, leaving only soft, even footsteps on wood that soon faded. Still Subaru didn't move except to squeeze his eyes shut. His temples throbbed, and he refused to even think about his situation; it helped a little, but not much.

 

* * *

 

Seishirou held his smile as the door slid closed behind him, only to drop it as he headed down the stairs. They were narrow stairs, made of dark wood that would be difficult to navigate at night, but it was approaching noon and Seishirou's feet knew the path well. At the bottom he crossed the shadowed main floor, socks silent on old tatami and passing soft sculptures of cloth-draped furniture. Director-General Okada had arrangements for maintenance work to be done once or twice a year, Seishirou knew, but it was only minimal, and the house had a dry, dusty smell. At least the basic utilities were all in order.

There was a tightness in his chest. Soon he reached a small room in a far corner of the house with a moon window. Seishirou remembered that the window framed a pond and sakura tree in the garden, all of which was now blocked by overgrown foliage that dappled the floor with spots of sunlight. Sliding the room's door shut as yet another block against carrying sound, he lifted the phone and pressed redial.

"Hello?"

Seishirou snorted softly. "You shouldn't sound so suspicious when you answer."

A loud exhale puffed from the phone. "What do you expect?" Kakyou retorted. "I keep thinking I'm going to pick up and find one of the Sumeragi or a policeman on the other end."

"I expect you to at least be less blatantly obvious that you have something to hide. Put Hokuto-chan on."

"Fine."

The phone was handed over. "How is he?" Hokuto demanded.

"I left him just as you did: with lots to think about." The same also applied to himself, only Seishirou didn't have anyone supplying answers. "It appears you were right about the scent."

"So he remembers?" The young woman sounded hopeful.

"I don't know. I haven't had a chance to try going Within to see what your cousin did, and given how little Subaru trusts me right now that's going to be hard to do. He won't even let me touch him."

There was a pause. "Are you all right?"

Seishirou hesitated. Tested her question in his head again, weighing its echoes and dissonances with the ceaseless whisper that was the Sakura's concern. "It's more difficult than expected," he said at last.

" _Ah._ " It was easy to imagine Hokuto's small smile, and Seishirou tried to make himself unclench. She was too far away for him to do anything anyway. "Maybe you should leave the phone with him so I can talk to him? Without you around, I mean."

At least she hadn't pressed things. "Do that and he might call the police, or worse, your grandmother. Both possibilities are equally likely in his current state. Does Kuzuki-kun's phone store the number of previous callers?"

"No, it doesn't even have a display screen. And I still think you're being paranoid making us memorise your number and not write it down."

"Not paranoid, experienced. Or have you forgotten what I do for a living?"

"The McDonald's night-shift?"

Seishirou blinked, then laughed. "You remember that?"

"I've had five years to think over every conversation we shared and wonder how I missed that you're the Sakurazukamori. In the end, I figured it was a combination of me not wanting to know and you being very good at pretend. Actually, maybe that's something to try."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, do what you did before and try to make Subaru fall in love with you again. He's still Subaru in many ways, and you know what he likes even if he no longer does himself. And you were so good at it last time."

For a moment Seishirou felt it with absolute clarity: the shudders, the heated breath, the thrill as he buried himself within Subaru's body. "Hokuto-chan," he said, and deliberately gave a slow, dark smile. "Are you giving me permission to seduce your brother again?"

"No," she said bluntly. "Not unless he remembers. But everything else you used to do, like the flirting and teasing? Sure. Just remember that he's not going to react like he used to."

The smile faded. He thought back to how Subaru, despite his wide-eyed terror upon waking, had quickly put what information he had together to identify Seishirou as the Sakurazukamori. The fledgling thought that Seishirou could treat Subaru like the teenager he'd once been was strangled in its nest. What if he couldn't fix things? What if he had been completely erased from Subaru's memory? What if—

Seishirou realised what was doing, and also realised how insidiously those thoughts were being encouraged. _Don't you dare,_ he warned sharply, and, chastened, the Sakura retreated. He slowed his breathing; he needed to do something, something tangible he could focus on. "Does Subaru still like that matcha crème brûlée you used to make?" he asked suddenly.

"I haven't made that since leaving Tokyo. Although, sometimes when I sneaked off, I'd get one from somewhere in Kyoto to bring home and share with him. Subaru said he liked it when I asked. Why?"

"I need to go shopping," Seishirou said, because he did; there was nothing to eat in the house, the clothes Hokuto had packed for Subaru were mostly kimono, and he himself had only packed for a few days, not weeks. "I thought I'd get him something to cheer up. You should do the same."

"What, cheer up?"

"Go shopping. You're back in Tokyo, I'm sure you want to look the part and blend in."

"Oh." He could hear a wide smile grow in that sound. "Is RagTag still on Takeshita-dori?"

"It was last time I was in the area. I think they've opened up a couple more stores around town as well. Bring Kuzuki-kun to carry bags."

"Good idea. I … suppose bringing Subaru to shop with you is out of the question."

"Of course. Don't worry, he can't leave the house and I'll leave a shikigami to observe him. It'll be interesting to see what he does when left by himself."

"You do realise it sounds like Subaru has just swapped one prison for another."

"It's for his own good."

"Which is the same argument Obaa-chama and Shouhei make." She sighed wearily. "But I suppose in this case it's true. You're trying to liberate his mind, not smother or erase it, and once that's done we'll all be free to move on."

"You make it sound so easy."

"You're the Sakurazukamori. You're the most powerful onmyouji alive along with Subaru, you're the only person in the world that Subaru fell in love with, and for all that you're a proud, cold-hearted bastard you get things done. Besides," Hokuto added, and a hint of her old cheekiness crept in, "isn't it your nature to be on top?"

Seishirou's eyes narrowed. "Are you giving me a pep talk?"

"Uh huh. Everyone needs one now and again, even you. I thought this was a good a time as any."

"Hm. I suppose this means I should go and get things done then."

"Good luck."

"Thank you."

They organised a time for Hokuto to speak to Subaru later, and then the call finished. For a while Seishirou leaned by the moon window, the phone dangling from his fingers as he pondered everything Hokuto had said, Subaru's presence upstairs, and the weight of graceful hands lined with scars. The stars beneath still shone in Seishirou's mind. Whatever had been done, whatever had been endured, those marks would never be erased.

The tightness in Seishirou's chest seemed less restricting now.

The shadows had shifted on the floor. Pulling himself straight, Seishirou strode over and opened the door; he hadn't slept since before the attack, but already his mind was running up a to do list as he headed towards where he had parked the car. At the same time, he lifted the phone once more and dialed another number from memory. It was a number that, although hardly used, Seishirou knew was always open to him provided that certain unspoken rules were adhered to. Rules that now probably needed a bit of clarification. He made sure to smile as the line connected.

"Ah, Director-General, good morning. I trust that you've been well and this is a convenient time to call…"

 

**Arakawa, Tokyo**

Hokuto put down the phone's handset and immediately slumped over the coffee table. For all that she had slept most of the drive from Kyoto, that rest had been broken when she and Kakyou abandoned the car just outside Yokohama and switched to the train. Adrenalin and excitement at glimpsing pre-dawn Tokyo kept her going, but once in Kakyou's apartment had begun to leak leaving Hokuto in an unpleasant limbo of wanting and needing rest, but unable to properly fall asleep. It didn't help that Kakyou had made her take his bedroom while he slept on the couch.

"Are you okay?"

Kakyou had slept somehow, despite being unable to stretch his long legs straight or sprawl. Where Hokuto was sure she looked a mess with red eyes and sallow skin, Kakyou was bright and alert, if worried. _I feel if I stay in bed too long I'm missing out on life,_ he'd said when they first met—or the second, depending on the point of view. Not that Hokuto wanted to think about that right now. "Part of me still can't believe that I'm letting him look after Subaru," she admitted. "Obviously there's everything else like being on the run and how badly did my family in Kyoto get hurt, but right now leaving my unstable, amnesiac twin brother alone with the Sakurazukamori is number one on the not-okay list."

"You know it had to be done," Kakyou said gently.

"Yeah, but did I do the right thing?"

"I don't know if it's the _right_ thing, but it was definitely the _only_ thing. You couldn't save Subaru-san by yourself, and for good and ill he needs Sakurazuka. Vice versa too, although I doubt you'll ever hear Sakurazuka admit it."

"The world would have to end first. Except it already did once, didn't it? Or not. Ugh." Squeezing eyes shut, Hokuto pressed the heels of her hands into her eyelids until she saw stars. "The present is already crazy enough without thinking about how an alternate future actually happened and then didn't, all because a kid with destiny made a Wish." Suddenly she thought of something that made her meet Kakyou's gaze across the coffee table. "You said that in that other life you were a Dreamgazer and could see people's dreams. Did you ever see Subaru's?"

The young man shifted uncomfortably. "I did, yes."

"What were they like?"

"Dark. Lonely. Obsessed. If he wasn't dreaming of Sakurazuka, he was dreaming of you and reliving your death. Like I was."

Hokuto still couldn't imagine herself being dead, let alone at Seishirou's hand, but the way Kakyou was looking at her she didn't have to. "I'm sorry I made you remember that," she said softly.

Kakyou smiled, a shy, unexpected thing. "Don't be. Painful as it is, remembering just makes me more grateful for the present. Let me tell you, no matter how bad things look right now with Subaru-san, I promise that it's still far better than that other life. You're alive, alive and well and looking out for him, and Sakurazuka not only wants your brother, he has actually chosen to be with him. That doesn't just mean something, it means _everything_ —and now Subaru-san has the two most important people in his life working together to save him."

Something warm uncurled beneath Hokuto's ribs as Kakyou spoke, and she felt it spreading through her veins like firefly trails, their brightness second only to the light in Kakyou's face as he continued, "This is a new world, Hokuto-chan, and because you live in it Subaru-san, me, even Sakurazuka, we all have hope which we never had in that other life. In this end, everything can work out for the better, and will. I'm sure of it."

The tone was familiar from so many phone conversations over the last five years. Whenever Subaru's self-harm or Lady Sumeragi's disgust or her isolation had been too much, all Hokuto had to do was call Kakyou and talk and listen and somehow everything would feel better. Except instead of a phone line and five hundred kilometres between their faces, there was now just a coffee table. A small coffee table, in Kakyou's small apartment. Suddenly the reality of the two of them staying—no, _living_ here together hit Hokuto, and she blushed.

There was a short, heavy pause. Then Kakyou coughed and looked away. "Anyway, what matters is that you're now in Tokyo," he said, cheeks noticeably pink. "There's nothing more that can be done with Subaru-san for now, so why don't you take a break and focus on yourself? My room's yours, and hopefully now that you've spoken with them both in Kanazawa you can sleep better?"

"Actually, now I feel wide awake," Hokuto replied, studying the line of Kakyou's neck and jaw. The clothes she could put him in… "I know I'm supposed to be careful, but I'm in Tokyo and it's lunchtime and there's so, so much I want to catch up on—"

"Shall we go to Harajuku, then?"

He was looking at her again and smiling. Hokuto grinned back, grateful, and for the first time in a very long time, everything in the world felt right.

 

**Sagano, Kyoto**

They sent her home that evening in a wheelchair. Not because she was couldn't walk, but because the hospital doctor's insistence on absolute rest was non-negotiable. Unfortunately, Lady Sumeragi drove hard bargains.

"Please, cousin," Nuriko begged as Lady Sumeragi reached for her walking stick. "The doctors said that if you insist on pushing yourself, you risk falling seriously ill—"

"I know my own limits and how far they can be pushed," Lady Sumeragi retorted. Her glare as Shouhei moved the walking stick out of reach was scorching.

"It's not that you don't know your limits, it's that you don't care," Takehiko said, ill health making his short temper even shorter. "Of course you're worried about Subaru-san and his sister, we all are, but you still have to be reasonable—"

" _Reasonable?_ When the Sakurazukamori has my grandchildren? And could be doing heaven knows what to them as we speak?"

"Reasonable in that we have to plan not just how to find and rescue them, but also for the worst case scenario."

The room went very quiet. Apprehensive, Shouhei looked from Takehiko's stubborn expression to Nuriko's distressed one, and his grip on the handle of Lady Sumeragi's wheelchair tightened. Lady Sumeragi herself was very still and very pale, though in what proportions of pain and emotion Shouhei didn't dare guess at. He found himself profoundly glad that no one else was present: Katsumi, although back from hospital with a heavily bandaged nose, was sleeping off painkillers in the company of her husband; Takeshi had excused himself from this meeting to get over the last of his sakanagi; Hana was looking after Katsumi's children; and Hiroshi was still being treated for broken ribs. Whatever argument was about to start, Shouhei had a sinking feeling that it would be better to have as few witnesses as possible.

"I am the twelfth clan head," Lady Sumeragi said, deceptively soft like raindrops before a storm, "and I named Subaru-san as my heir nearly two decades ago. Only he, as thirteenth clan head, can name the fourteenth."

Takehiko didn't back down. "I'm not disputing that. I'm just asking you to be prepared to face the very real likelihood that if the Sakurazukamori kills Subaru-san, for the sake of this family's future you need to be in a condition to name another heir."

The storm was breaking over Lady Sumeragi's face. "You've already given up on him," she said.

"I never said—"

"You want to lead this clan, is that it? Or are you hoping for a chance to lift up your petty-minded son, Takeshi? I'll tell you right now—"

"Cousin Takehiko has a point," Nuriko broke in unhappily. "It's not giving up or being morbid, it's being realistic. We have no idea where the children are and the Sakurazukamori could kill them at any moment. Even if he doesn't and we rescue them, what will we find? Subaru-san was already struggling after the Sakurazukamori's attack five years ago, this time he could be broken beyond repair—"

"Don't," Lady Sumeragi hissed. "Don't say that—I won't—"

"He's already twisted Hokuto-san to his side!" Takehiko cried. "Even when we find them, _if_ we find them, how can we be sure we won't be rescuing Sakurazukamori pawns?"

"—ever give up hope—"

"In that case it could be more merciful if they were dead—"

Shouhei couldn't take any more. "Enough!" he snapped, only to flinch as all three elders turned to him in shock. "This is getting us nowhere," he continued tiredly, trying to rein in his frustration for a more respectful tone. "None of us has managed to rest since last night, there have been too many trips to the hospital, and Sumeragi-sama, the doctors couldn't emphasise enough how much you need to avoid stressing yourself. It's getting late, why don't we call it a night and decide on a course of action in the morning?"

"We must search for them," Lady Sumeragi insisted. "It's been nearly twenty-four hours and we haven't even started."

"Except the bastard's right," Takehiko growled. "Too many of us have been injured to some degree, and won't be of any use in an intensive search until recovered."

Nuriko was visibly trying to hold onto her patience. "I do think it's worth getting the Tokyo police—"

"And I said no," Lady Sumeragi cut in before Shouhei could voice his support, and this Takehiko was nodding agreement on. "Not just for the sake of our reputation, but because we _know_ the Sakurazukamori has allies there. How else do you think he can kill with impunity over and over again? And now he has my grandchildren..."

She slumped and, fearful of another collapse, Shouhei instantly knelt at her side. He froze when he realised that Lady Sumeragi, his teacher, the twelfth clan head who made even a wheelchair and plain kimono into a regal throne, was crying uncontrollably.

No one spoke, leaving Lady Sumeragi's sobs to echo uncomfortably loud. Shouhei didn't know what to do. Then Takehiko stood up. "I'm … going to go sleep," he announced, noticeably avoiding everyone's eyes. "Take care of her, and come morning when we're all in a better state we'll start doing everything we can to bring Subaru-san and Hokuto-san home."

Nuriko looked like she wanted to make some reply, but she thinned her lips and refused to look at Takehiko as he strode out. Shouhei bowed to him of course, not that it was acknowledged, and soon the door slid shut. Nuriko stood, slowly, and went to reach a hand towards Lady Sumeragi whose outburst was now easing. "Cousin—"

"I'm fine," Lady Sumeragi rasped, although the way she held the sleeve of her kimono over her eyes said otherwise. Shouhei sensibly did not comment. "Get out. Take your sleep, I'm sure since you never had children it'll come easily to you."

Nuriko flinched. "That's unfair, I love those children just as you do—"

"Then don't ever say they'd be better off dead!" Lady Sumeragi's voice rang like thunder. "Now _get out._ "

Nuriko looked like she wanted to cry as she drew herself up and turned. Then her eyes met Shouhei's and she took a deep breath before quietly saying, "I'll call her maid to help her dress for bed. Make sure she gets there safely, all right?" Shouhei nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Nuriko patted his shoulder. "Good boy."

She left. Shouhei listened to her disappear, letting Lady Sumeragi compose herself. It didn't take long. "Shall I help you to your rooms?" he asked tentatively.

Lady Sumeragi gestured him over with an air of disgust—probably not at him specifically, Shouhei told himself, but rather at … everything. The Sakurazukamori. The rest of the Sumeragi family. Her own ageing body. "Be quick about it."

"Of course." Hooking her walking stick on the wheelchair's back, Shouhei released the brakes and gently pushed Lady Sumeragi out into the corridor. It was cold and empty, and the floorboards squeaked beneath the rubber wheels like pained mice.

Shouhei glanced down as he pushed. At this angle in the dim light, all he could see of Lady Sumeragi was the back of her head, which was sitting on her hunched shoulders as if too heavy to lift. Her white hair, usually impeccable, was falling loose from its tie. Shouhei swallowed down a nameless fear and for a moment inexplicably saw another woman, younger but with the same lank hair, the same lines of worry and despair. _All the time that my child had been missing I was caught up every day in such horrifying dreams …_

Subaru had tried to help that woman, to give her and her dead daughter's spirit ease, only to suffer himself. It was also a key point in Subaru's relationship with Sakurazuka that Shouhei had specifically blocked Subaru from remembering on numerous times. As with all of Subaru's memories Shouhei had avoided any close examination, but now he found himself turning it over, pondering how Subaru deliberately went to Sakurazuka for comfort, and how gently Sakurazuka gave it. As the relationship deepened to intimacy the comfort Subaru sought had been less gentle, but not less wanted. Shouhei couldn't know how much had been an act from Sakurazuka, but he did know what he had seen, and what he'd seen last night...

"Sumeragi-sama," Shouhei said quietly, barely above the squeaking wheels. "I don't think the Sakurazukamori will kill Subaru-san."

A lock of white hair shivered. Shouhei didn't know if Lady Sumeragi had flinched at his words, or been shifted by the wheelchair's movement. Either way he decided it was safe to go on. "The Sakurazukamori could have easily killed Subaru-san in this house, yet he did not. He took him away with Hokuto-san's help. Whatever we think of Hokuto-san, she would never do anything to hurt her brother, and will fight to protect him." He winced as he remembered Hokuto's fury at his plan to erase Subaru's memories, and how she had trapped his shikigami in her kekkai. _His_ shikigami, not Sakurazuka's. "I think, if Hokuto-san helped Subaru-san be taken, then the Sakurazukamori's intentions towards Subaru are not fatal. In fact, they may be quite the opposite—"

He broke off as Lady Sumeragi twisted in the wheelchair to look up and over her shoulder with a dangerously narrowed gaze. "Is that supposed to comfort me?" she asked.

Shouhei slowed the wheelchair. They were outside Lady Sumeragi's room now, and the light spilling from its doorway made the nearby closed doors of Subaru and Hokuto's rooms all the colder. "I was hoping to, yes," he admitted carefully. "I know it's not much, but at least if Sakurazuka doesn't want to kill Subaru-san, or Hokuto-san for that matter, it's one less thing to fear, and one more reason to hope."

"Hope for what? That the Sakurazukamori keeps Subaru-san alive to abuse for his own twisted pleasure? That when the spells in Subaru-san's mind unravel, the Sakurazukamori _only_ wants to break him again?" Suddenly she put a foot on the floor, stopping the wheelchair and making Shouhei stumble with a gasp. "I, _you_ and I have spent far too long fixing Subaru-san from the damage that filth left, and I will not lose even part of him again."

Gripping the wheelchair's arms for support, Lady Sumeragi made herself stand and reached for the walking stick. Shouhei could only watch; he had stubbed his toe and Lady Sumeragi's expression was such that he dared not stop her. It was hard to miss how heavily she leaned on the walking stick, and how unsteady her hand still was, but. "Sumeragi-sama, you must be careful—"

"The rest of you may reassure yourselves that we have time to rest, but I will not. Old as I am, my spirit is still far stronger than any of yours." She stormed into her room where, with the walking stick's aid, she lowered herself to sit on her spread futon and smoothed her kimono out over her knees. "I'm going to search for them. If you want to be useful, keep watch over me."

"Sumeragi-sama—"

A white light began to shine above Lady Sumeragi's body, coalescing and lengthening until there was a white crane gracefully folding black-tipped wings. Its long neck curved over Lady Sumeragi's shoulder, its head was crowned with red, and its eyes glittered like stars. They looked down on Shouhei making him gulp down any further objections until all he could do was bow. "Be careful," he said. Pleaded, in fact. "And come back soon."

The crane inclined its head. Then it stretched upwards, opened its wings, and soundlessly took flight through the ceiling like mist. Shouhei stared after it, then at the frail body left behind with eyes closed and only the smallest movement indicating breath. In all his years as an onmyouji, Shouhei had never before thought about how much being in trance looked like being close to death. _Come home,_ he thought, and surprised himself by his vehemence, _come home, cousins, so your grandmother doesn't kill herself saving you._

It was a pointless thought. Hokuto had deliberately turned her back on her family and whatever state Subaru was in, Sakurazuka wasn't going to let him go. Still, Shouhei couldn't help feeling resentful of how they had left him to look after Lady Sumeragi. He wasn't her grandchild, she didn't even recognise him as Sumeragi, at least officially. No one would blame him if he threw up his hands and left this mess of a family to sort itself out.

No one, except himself. Because it was family.

A footfall made him turn. A kimono-clad maid stood in the corridor behind, late in middle-age, and frowning at the wheelchair in her path. Rousing himself, Shouhei informed her that her lady was occupied, to take the wheelchair out of sight but somewhere nearby, and to come back in the early morning. He hoped that by then Lady Sumeragi's spirit would have returned from Tokyo with success, but if she hadn't, Shouhei had some ideas for how to take some of the search burden from her. Hopefully Ishikuro Yoshirou was still an early riser.

 

**Kanazawa**

It hadn't changed. Oh, the small train station had some new shops and there were a few new buildings gleaming beneath the afternoon blue sky, but really, in essentials, Kanazawa hadn't changed. Its people still walked slowly, its tourist posters still clutched at Kyoto's kimono hems, and everything still had a small-minded _smallness_. Yoshirou's mood, already blackened from over four hours train ride, turned to pitch.

His father was dying. Yoshirou didn't care except for when he pretended to, and he had pretended enough to Section Chief Yamakawa and his father's friend that here he was, on emergency leave, luggage in hand and trying to remember which bus to catch out to the coast. He had no idea what awaited him, only that he didn't want to see it and didn't want to be here. Not when he had work to do.

"Do you need help?"

Yoshirou turned. An elderly man wearing the station's uniform bowed and smiled up at him. "Welcome to Kanazawa! Pardon my intrusion, but you seemed a little lost. Are you looking for your hotel?"

If only he were staying at a hotel. "No," Yoshirou said shortly. "Just a bus."

"There are plenty of buses that go to the city centre, but for a visitor from Tokyo, if you have time I'd recommend the loop bus. It'll take you past all the major sights: the chaya districts, the gardens—"

"You think I'm from Tokyo?"

"Your suit and accent made it a good guess." The elderly man bowed again. "We get quite a few visitors from the capital, sometimes on work or usually looking for a quiet getaway. And what better place to get away from it all than Kanazawa, hm?"

The glow he'd felt at being identified as from Tokyo dissipated. Kanazawa was a quiet getaway, all right, one Yoshirou had spent his entire life trying to get away from. "I can think of a few places," Yoshirou replied, hefting his suitcase. His other hand gripped a briefcase filled with the research materials he'd gathered on the Sakurazukamori, plus the unsolved case files Sakamoto had sent over. "You know, forget the bus, I'll catch a taxi instead. Unlike you, I don't have time to waste."

He strode off to the taxi rank, ignoring the way the man stared after him. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could say he had done his duty and get back to his own life. The life his father never understood. Somehow Yoshirou doubted there would be a deathbed reconciliation.

An idle taxi opened its door for him. Yoshirou loaded his luggage and climbed in just as a gust of wind blew, and, without thinking, he took a deep, shuddering breath. "Where to?" the driver asked.

The wind was sharp and cold and smelled of salt. Home. "Kanaiwa," Yoshirou said curtly, slamming the door shut and the wind out. "I'll give you directions when we're close."

 

* * *

 

The wind woke Subaru with a cry.

He didn't know how he'd fallen asleep. Some combination of being overwhelmed and shutting his eyes in a desperate hope that by doing so he could make everything disappear. The hope hadn't worked, of course, except in one respect: the Sakurazukamori, his abductor and hated enemy, was gone.

Subaru didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.

Another wind gust cried through the room shaking the windows. Glancing up, Subaru saw that one window had been left ajar for fresh air. The sky outside was a clear blue that to Subaru's eyes seemed unnaturally vivid, and split into even sections by thick wooden bars. Prison bars. Subaru had no idea where he was, only that it was far from Kyoto and everything he knew. The only thing he did know was that he was the prisoner of the Sakurazukamori.

_"Those dreams you have sometimes, of a man who sees and touches you like something special? He's not your imagination, he's real, and he's someone you love very much. He's Sakurazuka Seishirou, the man who is with you now."_

Subaru hunched over biting back a moan. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to believe it, he _couldn't_ believe it, the very thought made him feel ill. Like snowfall in summer or breathing water, any feeling let alone love for the Sakurazukamori was unnatural and impossible and just plain wrong—yet Hokuto, the one person in the world who felt remotely real, had been so sure. Already Subaru could feel his heart rate tripping, only this time there was no Hokuto to hold him, no grandmotherly expectations or Shouhei to make him not think… he dug fingernails into his hands trying to claw back something real; he couldn't breathe, he was going to be sick—

His vision went black. It cleared gradually until he realised what he was seeing was his hands, the quilt, and an irregular patch of dark blue. Saliva dripped thickly over his lips as his chest heaved, in and out, in and out, forcing air through his raw throat and lungs. The air tasted sour and Subaru heaved again, choking out more fluid. His stomach cramped; there was nothing inside it.

The dark blue patch grew larger. Subaru realised he was thirsty.

Cold wind whispered in his ears. Swallowing, Subaru made himself sit up and pushed the soiled quilt away with a shudder. He wiped his mouth with his hand, his bare hand, without the gloves he had worn since childhood, and cringed at the feel of scars against his lips. There was no cloth or towel nearby so he hid his hands in the sleeves of his grey yukata, the same one he had worn to sleep in Kyoto. How much time had passed since then? Impossible to tell; there was no visible clock in the room, just the bed and a few other bits of furniture all under cloth. There were tracks in the floor indicating that the room could be divided into two, and a door for each half. Both were closed.

Subaru got up. Winced a little as vertigo made the room wobble, but made himself put one foot in front of the other across the tatami mats until he reached the nearest door. He pushed it without thinking, and, much to his surprise, it opened.

He found himself in a narrow hall. A window at one end supplied light, angled so that Subaru guessed the time to be late afternoon. There were three doors in the wall across him, all of which opened. One revealed an empty room, another a small bathroom, and the last a toilet. Subaru wanted to try the bathroom taps, but there was a mirror above the sink and the thought of looking at himself made him inexplicably shiver. He moved on.

Water. An simple, basic thing to focus on, that in a house should be easy to find. At the other end of the hall was a heavy door on hinges, also open, and narrow stairs leading down. Subaru made himself descend keeping one palm on the wall, trying not to think how naked he felt without his gloves, or how rough the wood was to his sensitised skin. At the bottom he found himself in the dim floor of a traditional house, probably well over a century old, windows blocked by leaves or shutters, and empty of the usual things that indicated occupancy other than a few large pieces of furniture draped in cloth. Subaru uncovered one and found an old chest of drawers with nothing inside. From there he followed a short passageway, floorboards creaking beneath his weight, until he found another door. It was on hinges, not sliding, and heavy. Despite the obvious lock, the handle opened and the door swung wide to reveal a wing decidedly more modern in construction and style. Here the ceilings were higher, the walls apparently brick covered in plaster and paint, and the kitchen—finally—was tiled and fitted with a gas cooktop. Subaru had no idea about architecture or interior design, but he had the distinct impression that this part of the house dated more to Uncle Takeshi's generation, and he couldn't help thinking that he was intruding on someone. Then he noticed the dust, the unplugged fridge, and pantry just as empty of _occupancy_ as the rest of the house. He tried the sink taps half-afraid they wouldn't work, only to have water appear immediately. Grateful, Subaru cupped his hands and bent down.

Cool relief soothed his throat. Subaru drank long and deep, then splashed his face for good measure so that when he straightened he no longer felt light-headed. He closed the tap almost absently; the situation he was in was no better, but now Subaru was calmer, and also feeling something he hadn't named in a very long time: curiosity. Shaking waterdrops from his hands, Subaru decided to explore further.

There was an upstairs to the modern wing. Like the larger traditional section, the rooms were all empty of everything but cloth-covered pieces of furniture too troublesome to move. Subaru found desks and narrow beds, wardrobes with cobwebs, and windows darkened by shutters that probably hadn't been opened for years. They gave the modern wing a stark, utilitarian feel, and Subaru made his way back to the traditional section which, despite the shadows and dust, at least bore enough similarity to Sumeragi house to give a measure of reassurance. Then his hand brushed a pillar and a chill ran down his neck.

Subaru made himself stop and look. The pillar was plain, dark-stained wood, with a faint shine as if smoothed over countless years by countless hands. Thick and square, each side was about a handspan in width, and lengthwise it reached through the ceiling into the upper storey. Likely the house's daikoku-bashira, and utterly unremarkable except for how it set off Subaru's other-sense, but stretching out with onmyoujitsu revealed no spirit or ghost. The pillar was empty, only _empty_ implied the absence of something that had been there, like the ringing silence after a thunderclap or the hush following a final chord. Subaru had no idea what the something could have been, but considering that the house belonged to the Sakurazukamori, it couldn't be good. Suddenly the reality of his situation hit all over again, obliterating his curiosity and whatever calm he'd gained. Subaru had to get out, and did so by hurrying through the nearest room and sweeping aside its doors to the engawa. Sunlight blinded him momentarily, and when his eyes cleared, Subaru saw a garden.

Vines and spiderwebs tangled between outstretched branches. Walls of bamboo waved aggressively in the wind like spears. A algae-choked stream was bordered by rocks over which spilled thick reeds and flowers of purple and yellow. Clearly there had been a beautifully curated landscape here at one point, but years of neglect had let it go wild and random. Unlatching the glass storm shutters to see better, Subaru found a stepping stone path leading away from the house. Despite his lack of shoes, Subaru hurried out.

He didn't get far. The overgrowth on either side was bad enough to keep him to the path, but there was also the rocks digging into his feet, a few stubborn yellow-striped spiders braving the cold above his head, and eventually, the walls. Topped with sloping roof tiles, they were just visible behind screens of bamboo and bushes, and enclosed the house and gardens entirely. They were also significantly taller than typical perimeter walls. The only thing visible beyond was blue sky and trees rippling in a wind that, now that Subaru was outside, had an undertone of distant cars. None of it told Subaru anything about where he was, but that didn't matter. Every prison had a gate somewhere, and Subaru was going to find it.

There was a gate all right, high and shut, in the wall closest to the house's modern wing. It looked to be solid wood and locked and warded, or so Subaru guessed from his position. The garden, he was discovering, was done in a winding stream style that as well as elegant lines and interconnected ponds, also created natural barriers that kept Subaru from the gate. From what he could tell, the only way to reach the gate was go to through the modern wing. Subaru resolved to go back there and find the door, but then he noticed a pine tree, imposingly high, with branches that stretched up and out. Some branches went over the wall. It would be a tricky, certainly dangerous path out—but it was potentially a path.

Subaru gingerly eased through the bushes to the tree's base. Here roots pushed through the soil and dead leaves like knuckle bones, forming a natural stair to the main trunk where Subaru found a knot thick enough to balance on. This gave him just enough height to touch the lowest climbable branch with his fingers, but needing a jump for an actual grip. If he missed or slipped, he would fall onto the tree's roots. If he didn't try and the Sakurazukamori came back … nervous, Subaru jumped and surprised himself when his hands clapped onto the branch—just. Hauling himself up, however, was a different matter, as gravity quickly made his arms feel like they were being pulled apart. He tried to adjust his grip, tried to kick out and find some leverage on the trunk with his bare feet—his arms were screaming now, and from there refused to obey even his desperate wish to hold on. His fingers clawed the bark as he fell.

Pain flared. Subaru's eyes filled with tears as he wondered if he had always been so weak.

He couldn't remember having ever been otherwise. He was useful, yes, always completing the tasks Lady Sumeragi set, solving his relatives' dilemmas, or helping the hurts of clients brought before him, but he got pleasure from none of it, no sense of satisfaction or achievement. It was the same strange, dull peace whatever he did no matter who he was with; a blank tranquility without hurt or need to think, except for when he did and imagined himself a glass cup, hollow and breakable, and slowly realised that what he thought was peace was really a frozen horror—

A metal creak sliced through his ears. Subaru's damp eyes flew open; the sound was that of something opening, probably the gate, which meant a chance, which meant forcing himself up, scratches and bruises and despair be damned, and he half-ran, half-limped back towards the house. Sure enough he could see an angular patch of sunset sky where the gate was; he would wade through the stagnant pond, swim it, even, if it meant he could get free. Then he rounded a rock feature and realised that the gate had let something in.

"Ah," said the Sakurazukamori, still holding the car door open. "You're up."

Subaru had frozen mid-step. Although the pond lay between them, there was something about the man's presence that made Subaru's breath catch and twist in a way that was frightening. He could turn and run, but large as the house and gardens were, with the Sakurazukamori in front of the gate where would he go? "Looks like you've been exploring," the Sakurazukamori commented, casting an eye over Subaru who flushed, suddenly self-conscious of his filthy feet, bruises, and sweat-stained yukata laced with spiderwebs. "Are you hungry? You haven't eaten the whole day."

Food hadn't crossed Subaru's mind at all, but the moment that thought finished his stomach gave a painful clench. It must have shown on his face, for the Sakurazukamori reached into the car. "Catch," he said, throwing something small and round that arched over the pond, fell through Subaru's scraped hands, then plopped onto the ground. A golden pear. Subaru had to bend to retrieve it and found the skin bruised. "Market special," the Sakurazukamori explained. "I recall that you're rather fond of them."

Juice leaked over his fingers giving off a ripe, sticky fragrance. Subaru realised that his mouth was watering. He thought of pears he ate at home and how someone—Hokuto, Shouhei, a servant—always brought them to him already cut into slices. The possibility of poison crossed his mind, which he immediately realised was ridiculous because the Sakurazukamori had already passed on several opportunities to kill him, and was followed by one of Shouhei's constant reminders: if you don't eat properly, you can't work properly.

Subaru lifted the pear to his mouth and bit down. Flavour burst between his teeth with a satisfying crunch that made his eyes widen. It was the most delicious thing he'd eaten in years. "Good," he heard the Sakurazukamori say. "Now, unless you're going to help me carry shopping bags, why don't you go get cleaned up while I prepare dinner?"

Dinner. Subaru looked up with a mouthful of fruit and saw the gate creaking shut. That in itself was bad enough, but then there was the way the Sakurazukamori was watching him, steadily and intensely focused from across the water. It was the same look he had been watching Subaru with that morning, only now Subaru wasn't overwhelmed by shock and panic and could feel its weight with startling clarity, like the brush of a fingertip on a wineglass rim, resonating faintly through his skin down the stem of his spine, all the way into the marrow of his bones. Subaru dreaded the intent behind such scrutiny, but at the same time he shivered with awareness, clear and absolute in this moment, of his own body and self.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so terrifyingly alive.

The Sakurazukamori was waiting for him to say something. Subaru did not. Instead, he swallowed, lowered the pear, and, despite his flinch, met the other man's gaze to give a single short nod.

 

* * *

 

Seishirou liked to think he could read every line in Subaru's body, and what he read right now was that Subaru wanted to run.

It would have been amusing if he did. Although the pine tree had grown into a possibility since Seishirou's days, he had seen through his shikigami that Subaru was woefully unprepared to tackle it leaving only the locked gate, and there was no way Subaru was getting through that. Seishirou knew all too well how high and smooth the gate was, and while the guards of old were gone, Seishirou's wards and shikigami served the same function. Subaru was not leaving this house without Seishirou's permission, and Seishirou hoped his prey wasn't about to try, if not because he was no longer utterly terrified, then because he wasn't stupid enough to waste his strength.

He didn't. Shuddering, Subaru drew himself up, nodded once, then abruptly turned and fled into the house. Seishirou let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. A start. A small one only, but considering how things had gone this morning, better than expected. And Subaru had accepted the pear, which bode well for everything else: clothes, food, other basics. The dinner Seishirou now had to make. Optimistic, Seishirou reached into the rental car and hooked shopping bags over his arm to carry inside.

There was no sign of Subaru in the guardhouse. Unsurprising, given that Seishirou could sense that Subaru's star-marks were now back in what had been Setsuka's rooms, but there was no indication that Subaru had been exploring earlier, either. Maybe because it was obvious the house had nothing valuable to offer, or, more likely, Subaru was too polite to rummage through things that weren't his. Even in the kitchen, when Seishirou inspected it, Subaru had elected to drink from his hands rather than touch the dusty mugs. He'd been the same in Tokyo, always asking _may I_ and _is it all right_ whenever he needed something in Seishirou's apartment, at least to start with.

They were beginning all over again, but for the first time in two lifetimes, Seishirou didn't have an end date.

The old fridge was unplugged. Seishirou plugged it back in, checked the light, then left it to cool while he searched for utensils. They were all where he remembered, so he pulled out the knives and pans, unwrapped the groceries, and began to cook. It was a task that took up most of his attention, but not so much that he couldn't monitor Subaru's presence, and he knew the instant Subaru went to bathe because the water-pipes gave a low groan. Hopefully Subaru had found the travel bag Hokuto had packed, otherwise he would have no means to dry himself or things to wear, and from there Seishirou imagined Subaru eating at the dinner table wet and nude … he chuckled softly to himself. Obviously Subaru would rather starve than do such a thing, but as fantasies went, it was very fun.

Fantasies were all he'd had of Subaru for five years. Now Subaru was once again within his reach.

Oil and soy sauce sizzled as the pan heated. By the time Seishirou had dinner laid out on plates in a corner of the main room, the twilight had turned to evening and the smell of food was wafting through the house. Just as Seishirou had anticipated, whatever inclination Subaru had about avoiding him was overruled by basic need: hunger.

"There you are," Seishirou said, smiling with the thrill of seeing Subaru appear at the foot of the stairs. "You're just in time. Any longer and dinner would get cold."

The young man didn't reply. He was dressed in a dark blue kimono and his hands were tucked under his sleeves. His hair was damp, there was some colour scrubbed into his cheeks, and his green eyes warily took in the small table with its two cushions before darting to the shadowed pillar nearby. "Pan-fried fish, rice, soup, and steamed vegetables," Seishirou continued, trying to draw Subaru's attention. "It's simple and healthy, but there's matcha crème brûlée to make up for that after."

Subaru still wasn't looking at him. Seishirou gave a dramatic sigh. "Perhaps it's a long time since you've been someone's guest, but I had thought the Sumeragi clan trained manners and etiquette as well as onmyoujitsu. Or would you rather your meals come on a tray through a door flap?"

That did it. He saw Subaru's shoulders stiffen, and the effort with which he made himself turn to one of the cushions and sit. His eyes didn't lift to meet Seishirou's, but Seishirou was sure that could be easily worked on and sat down opposite. "Itadakimasu," he said, then pointedly waited.

"... Itadakimasu."

It had been more breath than a word, but better than nothing.

Seishirou was not a man who could be satisfied with _better_.

He picked up his chopsticks. Subaru did so as well, revealing light grey gloves ( _not spelled_ , Seishirou's senses reassured, _safe_ ), and began to eat keeping eyes on his rice bowl in the familiar posture of one of his withdrawn moods. Seishirou had never let Subaru ignore him then, and he certainly wasn't going to let it happen now. Not after so many years apart. "The fish in these parts is particularly good," he commented brightly, "and far cheaper than anything you'd find in Tokyo's Tsukiji. We went to Tsukiji a couple of times with Hokuto-chan to eat, do you remember?" Subaru slowly continued eating as if Seishirou wasn't present. "Hokuto-chan wanted oysters, so she made us wander through all the crowds to find the one little stall that grilled them. You apologised to everyone we pushed aside. When we finally found the stall Hokuto-chan wanted, we bought three oysters but someone bumped into you so you dropped yours. I gave you mine. Hokuto-chan teased us, of course, and with so many people around to hear I thought your cheeks would catch fire. Do you remember?"

Still no response. Seishirou's smile started to take effort. The two of them had shared plenty of uncomfortable dinners before in Tokyo, but this, this was different. There was no sense of anger from Subaru, no irritation or frustration, just … nothing. Seishirou could have been talking to thin air, or a statue, or—"Where are we?" Subaru asked quietly, not looking up.

Seishirou blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"This house, where is it? Who lived here?"

Ah. "It's far from Kyoto, as I said, but as a hint we're not far from the coast. I'll also tell you that if you were hoping there were helpful neighbours nearby, you're out of luck." Seishirou shrugged. "As for who lived here, I did say the house is mine, did I not?"

"There's enough space for a family."

In Seishirou's mind, the large room briefly lit up in its old glory: golden lights, fresh flowers, Setsuka laughing at the silent guards and refilling his tea. The image faded quickly. "There's a lot of space, yes. But not for a family."

Perhaps being cryptic would provoke something from Subaru: frustration, irritation, maybe even a challenge. It did not. Like an unwelcome guest silence slunk back to the table, and still Subaru hadn't met his eyes. In fact, had Seishirou not distinctly heard otherwise, he could have easily believed that Subaru had not spoken at all.

_Flirting and teasing? Sure. Just remember that he's not going to react like he used to._

_He's just existing, without any feeling or passion or want._

_It's really because of you Subaru is like this._

Five years that Subaru had been prevented from thinking of him. Five years since Seishirou had walked away. Five years that, suddenly and fervently, Seishirou wished he could take back. But there was no Kamui to grant wishes now, only the vast, unknowable future.

What spell had Kitajima Shouhei cast in Subaru's mind last night? Did Seishirou still exist in his prey's memory, or was it as if they had never been? Was there any hope at all?

Subaru was finishing. He still hadn't lifted his eyes, which was almost a relief since it meant he wasn't seeing the rigidity of Seishirou's face, and he deliberately placed his chopsticks and empty rice-bowl on the table with a _gochisousama_ that was merely formality. "I'd like to speak to Hokuto-chan," Subaru said, polite as if across a reception desk. "Where is the phone?"

The phone was in the pocket of Seishirou's jacket, which in turn was back in the kitchen in the other half of the house. Seishirou did not, however, tell Subaru this, didn't do anything in fact, except stare at the bowed head of the thin, beautiful creature he had once known so well. From there Seishirou's gaze trailed down the lines of Subaru's still damp hair to the nape of his neck, his arms, and finally down to his gloved hands. The fabric was dotted with small, dark spots seeping from beneath. Blood. Seishirou reached out to touch.

Subaru jerked. Flung himself away from Seishirou, eyes wide and fearful, but with Seishirou grasping his wrist he could only go so far. Already his pulse was galloping to panic, and Seishirou grimly tightened his hold to pull the struggling man close; he wanted to crush Subaru against his chest, to rip the gloves and spells and years away to make his prey remember—pale skin thrashed out from dark blue cloth, feet and hands frantically sought to strike, and Seishirou heard Subaru sob as he had that morning, far better than blank silence—

The table fell over. Intent on subduing Subaru, Seishirou didn't pay it attention, presuming that a kick had knocked it. Then a burst of force shoved him backwards, and the room went black.

Seishirou leapt to his feet. The maboroshi wasn't his; he whipped his head to the daikoku-bashira, now the Sakura in its full glory, its flowers coalescing to swarm Subaru who was down on one knee and glowing not the blue-white of spirit, but red, dull and dirty like dried blood on window glass. Seishirou stared in shock. He has seen pain manifest in people before, but this was the first time he had seen it do so with spiritual power.

Spiritual power that could now easily slip out of control.

Pink petals howled and whirled protectively in front of Seishirou ready to smother. Seishirou hastily brought all his will to hold the Sakura with gritted teeth. _No. I do not allow this_. The Sakura hissed with clear meaning: danger, irreparable, broken. _I said_ no. _My prey, my decision. And even if I've forgiven you for blocking my memories, don't think that I've forgotten._

There was a distinct flinch. Seishirou momentarily tightened his grip, eyes fixed on Subaru. _Go back to your roots. Shield this place and keep watch, but no more. Not without my agreement._

The Sakura rustled unhappily. Seishirou held on a little longer before allowing the Sakura to fade, and with a thought caught and stabilised the maboroshi before it could unravel. Subaru had curled even tighter, a shining ember or heart of a star pulsing along with Seishirou's racing heartbeat fending off any approach. Hokuto had told Seishirou about Subaru's self-harm. She'd never mentioned anything like this.

"Subaru." Calming with scent or touch was impossible; even at this distance the pain/power was scalding. "Listen to me. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

The red glow strengthened. Seishirou put up a hand to cover his eyes and raised his voice. "Whatever you now think of me, it's unacceptable for you to lose control like this. You're the thirteenth Sumeragi head, not an untrained child. You want to fight, fine, but do it properly, not—"

A blast of crimson cut him off, and Seishirou raised a shield just in time only to watch it erode almost immediately. He swore, pouring more strength into his protections as fast as they were eaten away, and felt adrenalin trip into rare alarm. Seishirou killed people for disturbing the spiritual realm, had done so many times, but if the manifest agony of a normal person was a spiritual storm, then Subaru's was a typhoon. One that Seishirou was bearing the brunt of.

Red light on his outstretched palm like sunburn. Somewhere the Sakura was clamouring to be let loose, for its Sakurazukamori to fight and kill. Seishirou snarled at it to shut up; he could have every spirit in Kanazawa petition to end Subaru's life now, and he would not do it. Not after everything they had gone through.

"Subaru." Words were the only thing Seishirou had at hand, but after five years, did Subaru have any reason to listen? "Subaru, you have to stop. You're an onmyouji, you know better than anyone you can't go on like this. What you're doing, what you may become, it's an abomination both of us stand against."

He thought he felt the red glow flicker, and for a split second glimpsed his prey: kneeling, shaking, head bowed. Suddenly Seishirou remembered Subaru huddled beneath a blanket on a long ago rainy night, and it would be easy, wouldn't it, so easy to pull on that old mask and spout soft words of sympathy, except Seishirou didn't want Subaru to remember the vet, he wanted Subaru to remember _him_ —"You're hurting, you've made that very clear, but this isn't the way to deal with it. Not without destroying yourself, which maybe is what you want again, but I'll tell you here and now, I will not allow you to do so.

"You're mine. If you don't remember that then I'll remind you, over and over, until it's once more carved into your bones. I'm _not_ losing you again, not even to your own pain, and you promised Hokuto-chan you'd let me help. I want to help. Let me do that. Please."

The red light dimmed, slowly, shrinking until Seishirou was left sweat-drenched and breathing hard. His vision swam with bright spots which he shook to clear, and then, finally, he could see Subaru. The young man was down on one knee, small and impossibly taut, arms curled around his heaving chest and hands arched into gloved claws. Soon the only light remaining was in Subaru's eyes, two glowing spots of dull red in a face twisted with effort. Something in Subaru was regaining control, and Seishirou found his breath catching, hoping—

The red glow disappeared. Subaru blinked around the maboroshi. "Where is—you." His green eyes widened as they fell on Seishirou, and he stood, backing away trying to rearrange himself into a defensive stance. "Don't come any closer!"

So he hadn't remembered. Seishirou tried to quash the crush of disappointment. "Subaru—"

"This is your illusion, isn't it! Is anything you've shown me today even real? Hokuto-chan's voice, everything she said, maybe it was really just you—"

Too tired to retort, Seishirou dropped the maboroshi putting them back in the house which, other than the spilled food and toppled table, showed nothing of what had just passed. "Good as I am, even I can't create an illusion that complex, let alone sustain it for a whole day," he said, sitting on the floor as Subaru looked around, even touching the wall for reassurance. "The only reason the maboroshi came down to begin with was because of you nearly losing control."

"I—what?"

"You don't remember?"

"I remember you attacking me. I remember fighting to get away." The young man had recovered enough to glare down. "I'll fight again if you try to touch me."

How damaged was Subaru's mind that he couldn't remember what he'd just done? Or was the better question, how deep did Kitajima Shouhei's spell go? "Subaru—"

"Don't call me that!" Subaru snapped. "You have not been granted that right, _Sakurazukamori_."

Seishirou flinched. Contemplated saying precisely how and when he'd been permitted to address Subaru so intimately, but considering the situation telling Subaru about their clinic tryst was probably buying more trouble. "Very well, _Subaru-kun_ , for your information when you fought back you didn't just fight, emotion, specifically intense pain, warped your power until it began to develop its own intention separate from your will." He let that sink in. "You nearly became an ikiryo."

Disbelief had widened Subaru's eyes like sickly moons. "No. I know I'm not well, but I've never, I don't feel anything like—I mean, maybe I used to but Obaa-chan and Shouhei-san have helped me get better so I don't feel anything that could be—"

"I know what I saw."

"Or you're lying. You're the Sakurazukamori, lying is second nature to you."

"I don't lie. Mislead, yes, and manipulate to deceive, yes, but blatantly lie, no."

"Those aren't any different!"

"They are. What's more, there was a time when you understood that difference."

Something flickered in Subaru's face. "Are you honestly saying you've never outright lied to me?"

 _You've failed. Despite all your knowledge and efforts in this second chance, I still feel nothing—_ "I've lied once."

It shouldn't have come so easily. The words, the admission, they were a step in the wrong direction, towards _the end_. Somewhere the Sakura rumbled, and for the first time Seishirou was glad Subaru couldn't remember. "Once," Subaru repeated, "or just once that you're admitting to? How do I know that isn't a lie, let alone what you're saying about an ikiryo?"

"What would I possibly gain from telling you such a thing? What would—" Seishirou realised his voice was rising and forced a breath into his chest. "You don't know. There's so much you don't know. But you promised Hokuto-chan to give me a chance, and trust that whatever I'm doing, it's in your best interests. When I say that you showed all the signs of birthing an ikiryo, it's not for any ulterior motive, it's because you actually did." He watched Subaru swallow hard. "You know as well as I how dangerous one can be, let alone the ikiryo of someone with spiritual power, let alone someone as powerful as you."

Subaru's face was now bone white. "But how could—why would I have one? Even though you attacked me five years ago, ever since then Obaa-chan and Shouhei-san have helped me heal and get better—"

"Subaru-kun." The young man looked down with a fear that for once wasn't just about Seishirou. "Do you know precisely what your grandmother and cousin have been doing to help you?" No reply. "Whatever they've been doing, between this almost-ikiryo and _that_ —" here Seishirou gestured frustratedly at Subaru's gloved hands, "—it's clearly not working. That means either your grandmother and cousin are incompetent, or they're duplicitous. Since your powerful grandmother is far from stupid and would never have entrusted your cousin with your well-being unless he had a great deal of skill, that leaves only the _or_ , that they are hiding something from you."

"Which is?"

"What Hokuto-chan told you this morning about us."

Silence dropped while Subaru stared, pale and rigid, another cloth-shrouded shape in the shadowed house. His gloved hands had closed into fists and Seishirou watched them, the way they trembled, the spots of blood now dark and dry, and wondered how Subaru was about to react. Wondered if he would need to defend himself, or subdue.

Neither, it turned out. Subaru took one step backwards, then another, and another, until something in him said it was safe to turn and head for the door. Alarmed, Seishirou began to push himself to his feet. "Where are you—"

"Away. From you." The words came out tight, and Subaru did not turn back to speak them. "I can't leave, I know, but I'm free inside the walls, right? And while I promised Hokuto-chan I would give you a chance, everything you've done and said—" His shoulders shivered. "Don't follow me. Please."

He fled upstairs, footsteps drumming on floorboards even after he disappeared from view, followed by a thud, dull and final that, even nearly two decades later, made Seishirou's shoulders knot. _Do not enter. Do not interfere._ The impulse to go after Subaru went out like a candle flame, or maybe Seishirou was just weary. He hadn't had any time to rest since Kyoto.

Spilled food congealed on the floor beside him. Seishirou thought about cleaning up, thought about the dusty house, and leaned back against the wall shutting his eyes. He tried to reassure himself that at least Subaru— _Subaru-kun_ —was now talking to him, but it felt small and hollow. Don't call me that. Don't touch me. Don't follow me. Don't, don't, don't. _This is all your fault_ , Seishirou accused. _If I had remembered five years ago—_

 _—you would have decided differently?_ The Sakura rustled, chilling from bones to flowered crown. _Don't give me all the credit. Regardless of your memories, your decisions were yours alone. Or are you saying your pride would have let you admit defeat?_

Seishirou didn't answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- RagTag is a clothing chain that sells pre-owned designer items, and their rigorous quality checks means you can find pieces like Comme des Garcons and Prada in near-new condition for a fraction of the original price. Their first store opened in 1985 on Harajuku's Takeshita-dori, and they've since expanded to over a dozen stores mostly around Tokyo.
> 
> \- Kanazawa is often referred to and marketed as 'Little Kyoto'. A Tokyo-Kanazawa Shinkansen opened in 2015; before that getting to Kanazawa was by a series of local trains. The very first thing I noticed about the city when I stepped out of the train station was the smell of ocean on the wind.
> 
> \- A _daikoku-bashira_ (大黒柱) is the central load-bearing pillar of a traditional Japanese house ([info](http://www.aisf.or.jp/~jaanus/deta/d/daikokubashira.htm)), however the word is also used in reference to a man upon whom all others depend (ie., the family breadwinner, the pillar supporting the household or organisation).
> 
> \- One thing I noticed while exploring Kanazawa? Spiders. Big, fat, yellow spiders. They were everywhere: high above my head across an entire street in the samurai district, blocking off paths between trees, any place there was space to string a web. Not that I, an Australian, let them stop me hiking through the overgrown cemeteries.
> 
> \- Tsukiji refers to the famous Tsukiji fish markets of Tokyo - I went there JUST for grilled oysters for breakfast.
> 
> \- An _ikiryo_ (生霊), according to Japanese folklore, is a living ghost where a person's soul leaves their body and wanders about ([info](http://yokai.com/ikiryou/)). At their most benign an ikiryo goes walking to find a loved one to pass on a message or say goodbye, however they are more commonly born out of some intense trauma or emotion, and seek to wreak havoc or vengeance. The owner of the soul is almost always unaware that they are manifesting an ikiryo.


	8. Annex XII - Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have been well, yes, and I can spare a moment to talk," the Director-General said to whoever was on the line. "Are you all right? Has something happened?"

  **Sagano, Kyoto**

"'Kaa-san. 'Kaa-san."

"Mm, 'kaa-san is still sleeping, dear."

"' _Kaa-san_. There's an ambulance outside."

"Wh-what?! Was there an accident outside our house?"

"No, not _our_ house, the big one across the road with the guards."

"The—Sumeragi House. Those witch doctors, what have they—"

"What's that?!"

"...Police sirens. You know what police are, right dear?"

"Why are they coming here?"

"I don't know. Probably to Sumeragi House as well. Are you all right?"

"...I'm scared."

"It's okay, darling, look, 'kaa-san is closing the curtains. Sleep with me tonight, nothing will happen while 'kaa-san is with you, and in the morning everything will be fine …"

 

**Shinjuku, Tokyo**

"... the report from the Korean branch needs to be signed off by the end of today, you have that meeting with Ishinori-san at three o'clock, and the regular deputies roundtable at four—"

"Please say that I at least have a decent space for lunch," the Director-General muttered.

Ayuno allowed a smile to flicker. "You have nothing scheduled between twelve thirty and one fifteen."

"Not even a lunch meeting?"

"Not even a lunch meeting."

"Good." Sighing, the Director-General leaned back in his chair and briefly closed his eyes. "Anything else I should know about for the afternoon?"

Ayuno flicked through her notepad. "There was one thing that came in while you were meeting with Comms. Minor incident, but for the name involved."

She handed him a single page of fax paper streaked on top with the name and logo of the Ukyo Police Station in Kyoto. There wasn't much for the Director-General to read. "Any details of what happened at the Sumeragi Estate?" he asked.

"Other than the fact that police were called out? Nothing."

"Has Ishikuro-kun picked up on this?"

"He's on emergency leave, sir, I understand that his father is dying. Should I arrange a call to the Sumeragi?"

"No, don't bother, if the Sumeragi aren't filing police reports then whatever happened is either not worth worrying about, or they don't want outsiders to know. They'll get in touch with us if it's serious—"

He stopped as his phone rang. Instantly Ayuno tensed; since she was in here she obviously wasn't fielding her boss's incoming calls, and the only people who would call his desk directly were certain highly ranked members of government needing to discuss matters of national security. The Director-General calmly picked up. "Okada."

Having been his secretary for the better part of two decades, Ayuno knew how to read every subtle expression on his face, and what she saw in his blink was surprise. "I have been well, yes, and I can spare a moment to talk," the Director-General said to whoever was on the line. "Are you all right? Has something happened?"

A personal call, Ayuno guessed, and tensed further like a spring coiled an extra turn. The Director-General's wife and daughters also had this direct line, but they were under strict instructions to only use it for emergencies. Ayuno remembered that happening only once, when Kozue called up to say her mother had collapsed. The Director-General had been in the middle of discussing a sensitive surveillance operation, but had immediately dropped it to rush to hospital and his wife's side. Such family devotion was just one of many the reasons that Ayuno had given him her absolute loyalty.

"And the reason for that is …?"

This call, however, didn't seem to be that sort of emergency. True, the Director-General was frowning, but it seemed to be more in disbelief, without urgency or alarm. Possibly an informational call, then, in that something had happened somewhere that the Director-General had to know about, but not necessarily act. Ayuno felt herself relax as the conversation continued.

"All right. What do you need?" The caller gave a brief answer. "Very well. And do you have an estimated time?" This answer was even shorter. "Ah. Well, it's unlikely that there'll be anything coming up in the near future, but I still hope to hear from you sooner rather than later. Yes. I appreciate you letting me know. You as well. And take care."

The call ended. Ayuno waited as the Director-General gathered himself, wrinkles furrowed into deep lines of thought. "Well, that clears up what happened at the Sumeragi Estate," he explained. "That was the Sakurazukamori saying that he attacked it last night."

It took a moment for the information to sink in. "That's … out of the blue," Ayuno said, unable to hide her incredulity. "Any deaths?"

"Not this time."

"Did he say why he attacked?"

"Apparently there was an incident of the Sumeragi crossing a line into misuse of their powers, which necessitated the Sakurazukamori to take action. I don't doubt that what Sakurazuka-kun says is true, but I also don't doubt that he's giving me a very specific interpretation. In the end, but, the facts are this: the Sakurazukamori attacked the Sumeragi, and Sakurazuka-kun is now laying low until things calm down. He called to inform me that he will be unavailable for any jobs in the immediate future."

"Duly noted." She thought about the files she had recently locked away, the ones dug up by that irritating special investigator. "Do you think it's related to Ishikuro-san's rogue investigation? He did recently go to Kyoto to look into the scholar job."

"Ishikuro-kun isn't the first to go gallivanting after the Sakurazukamori in cold case files, although I am surprised at how quickly he figured out what to look for. It's not impossible that there's a tangential connection, which is why I trust that by the time he returns this Kyoto police log will have disappeared, yes?"

"Of course, sir."

"Thank you. Between that, his current absence, and him being pulled into line, if any connection does exist it should be nullified." He sighed. "But more likely what we're seeing is just the latest flare-up in the eternal Sumeragi-Sakurazukamori feud."

Ayuno could have shared that sigh; she also thought the whole thing ridiculous. "Do we need to arrange any assistance for the Sakurazukamori?"

"Other than the usual? No, and his onmyoujitsu disputes with the Sumeragi are none of our business anyway, unless things get out of hand."

"Of course. Although, may I suggest that we increase your eyes in Kyoto? In the event that the Sumeragi retaliate and things do get out of hand, it would be best to know as soon as possible in order to determine an appropriate response."

"Good idea, make it happen."

He sighed again, gaze drifting aside to the bookshelf and photographs there. Ayuno didn't have to follow to know he was looking at one of the photos of his daughters. "Worried, sir?" she asked, surreptitiously checking the nearby clock.

He glanced back at her with one grey eyebrow raised. "Was it that obvious?"

"Only to me. He's only a couple of years older than Kukiko-san, right?"

"One year older. I met him while Kukiko was in her last year of elementary school. Now she's a corporate lawyer." He gave Ayuno a wry smile. "And yet every so often she'll call me to complain and get advice on dealing with her idiot landlord. It's good to know I'm still looked to for support."

"You always will be, just as you will always worry no matter how old they grow. Now, sir, in the half hour before lunch, can I suggest that you look over the Korean branch report to sign off?"

 

**Utatsuyama, Kanazawa**

"Jan-ken-pon! Jan-ken-pon! Jan-ken-pon!"

Six young boys, some in uniform, some not, shout and cheer as one by one winners step away from the thick tree trunk. All around are slabs of grey stone, some upright, some toppled, all covered in moss or leaves and dappled sunlight. Their surfaces are marked with lines of characters that are often too faint to read. Not that the boys are interested in looking.

"Jan-ken-pon! Jan-ken-pon—hah!"

A loser is determined. He scowls and pulls faces at the other boys who laugh at him. " _Oni!_ " they shout, " _oni!_ You're it!"

"Fii~ine…"

The oni goes to the tree, faces it, and places his folded arms up as a headrest before leaning close and shutting his eyes. "One … two … three …"

As he counts, the other boys scatter, sneakers flashing dirty white as they flick up paths and into bushes. Soon the oni is alone in the clearing, a near-silent hollow amongst ancient trees and old bamboo filled with leaves and forgotten graves. The graves don't scare him. To him, the graves and their inhabitants are neighbours.

He reaches one hundred. Turns away from the tree, looking left and right, before taking off uphill at a jog to begin his hunt. Having lived all of his dozen years around this steep wooded hill with its little houses, temples, and cemeteries, he knows the good hiding spots as well as the stupid ones. He also knows his friends know the same spots, and will be trying to discover new ones. That's the challenge.

That's the game they play.

The oni finds his first friend in a shed. It's in a small vegetable patch on an open stretch of hill between the winding road and another newer cemetery. The old man owner, who had been weeding, saw the oni searching and pointed with a grin towards the shed. It's not quite the same as finding his friend himself, but the oni takes the opportunity anyway and flings the door open with a roar. His friend yells in fright, then, after they're done laughing, becomes an oni himself to join the hunt.

The next friend is up a tree by a temple overlooking the chaya district. The two oni would have probably walked straight past, if not for one of them spotting a patch of fresh bark revealed by a bit of torn creeper. Their arboreal friend pretends not to hear their insults and refuses to come down until the two oni threaten to throw rocks, at which point the boy shimmies back to earth and accepts his demonhood. Cheerfully, the three young oni move on.

The hill grows quieter as they go higher. Here the handful of houses have few signs of life beyond drying laundry, the odd cat, and spiders. Like gold-striped jewels the spiders hang, usually in webs far above adult head-height, but often low enough that the trio of oni can sweep them with sticks gleaned from the thick forest. It's through this method that they find the fourth boy, curled up behind a clutch of particularly old cobwebbed graves in a corner of a cemetery one of the boys remembers a family member is supposedly buried in. A great-great-grandmother, he explains, or was it a great-great-grandfather? When the fourth boy has sulkily become a fourth oni, they spend a little while trying to find this great-great-grandmother-or-father, but most of the headstones are worn flat and the rest fallen and buried under decades of leaves. They give up. The sun is descending, and there are still two more friends to find.

An abandoned wooden house harbours the fifth. The first oni remembers using that place as a refuge a few months ago, and didn't think anyone would hide there again due to its creepiness and filth, but the others want to try anyway so over they go, wading through ivy and weeds and tiny insect clouds. Sure enough, the fifth boy is inside, sitting on the bit of bare floor next to a pile of mouldy mattresses, fallen shelves, soggy books and rusting fans, and restlessly shifting from side to side in a mixture of a desperate need to piss and stubbornness not to move. He happily becomes an oni, and, after he has rushed out to relieve his bladder behind a tree, joins the hunt to find the sixth and last.

They're approaching the top of the hill. Here the woods are thickest, possibly never cut since the first shoot, and the only paths are narrow animal trails that wind and bend. _No one comes up here_ , the oni say, but the fifth is adamant he saw the last boy heading in this direction, and leads them on. Most have never climbed this high before, and the only one who has says he didn't venture far. The trees are as thick as remembered, and darker too, although he tells himself it's just the setting sun. In their shadows he can glimpse more mouldered headstones, which despite being more of the same as those on the lower slopes, are here unwelcoming and ominous. Watching. He notices the others are walking close together, eyes darting here and there, and their banter has hushed to silence. _What's up here?_ one boy whispers.

 _Nothing,_  says another, _just more trees and graves._

 _I heard there's a house,_ another adds.

_What, like the one he nearly wet his pants in?_

_Hey!_

_No, a big house. Like the ones you see in anime and movies where the mysterious swordsman or shrine maiden lives, with really high walls. My ojii-san told me that if I ever see it, I should stay away._

_Why, is it haunted?_

_Yes._

Silence as the group of little oni shiver. _What do we do if Iwao-kun is in that house?_

_D-don't say that! He's probably just hiding behind a tree somewhere._

_Let's call for him._

_Yes, let's!_

All together, they begin to shout. _Iwao! Iwao-kun! Where are you! Ii-Wa-Oooo…_

Their young voices barely echo, the trees seeming to swallow the sounds whole. Still they persist, imagining that their noise wards off any fear and sometimes they can almost believe it works. Then there's a cry. _Over here!_

It's Iwao, and there's something in his voice that makes the others wish they had never come. But Iwao is their friend, they have parents who would yell at them for even thinking of leaving someone behind … stumbling, the five boys hurry in the direction of Iwao's voice, keenly aware that the sun has hit the horizon. The game is forgotten, they want to go home, but then there is Iwao in an overgrown cemetery just off the path and huddled against a tree, his white sports jacket and sneakers the brightest thing around. _Iwao-kun!_ the boys shout, some tearfully, some harshly, but all in relief as they run up. _Good play, you won, but why the hell did you come up here? Are you okay? What are you look—_

They stop short as they realise Iwao isn't moving. Bent as if torn between flight and fight, he's almost taut enough to be a statue if not for his trembling. The hairs on the back of the other boys' necks are beginning to stand on end. _Don't turn,_ Iwao whispers, wild-eyed as he stares up at something behind them. _Walk slowly, but don't turn around…_

They have to. They're boys, children, and despite every instinct screaming at them otherwise, they can't _not_ look. They turn.

Crows. Hundreds, if not a thousand of them, perched about in a huge surrounding net. They're everywhere, in trees, on headstones, in individuals and small groups clustered close enough to look like weird, multi-beaked, multi-eyed creatures. They do not move. Their silent silhouettes are black against the twilight, and every one has bright red eyes.

Each red eye is fixed on them.

Someone gasps, while Iwao seems to groan. _Wh-what are they doing?_ one boy whispers.

_They're going to attack us!_

_Do crows eat eyes?_

_They're just birds!_ another says, trying for condescension. _Birds roost for the night all the time, there's nothing to be scared of. Look!_

He steps forward with a stick in hand. Before any of the others can stop him, he flings it at the nearest crow. It misses.

The murder of crows keeps staring, red, unmoving, unblinking. Then, as one, they swoop.

Piercing. Deafening. The terrified boys cower under the assault covering their heads and ears. _Run!_ they hear in caws and wingbeats, _run, children, away and fast and without looking back. Run while we are of mind to let you!_

And run they do. Battered by feathers and retracted claws, the boys yell and scream as they flee back the way they came, heedless of twigs and webs and even friendship. The forgotten cemetery returns to silence.

Night falls. As stars wake the red-eyed crows return, settling, roosting, spreading out their watch in twos and threes. They're quiet now, but had any boy been left behind he would have heard, in their muted cawing, the sound of laughter, like a man chuckling in a room alone. Somewhere behind the trees, a single house-light glows warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- _Janken pon_ : the Japanese rock paper scissors game known by every child.
> 
> \- _Oni_ : demon
> 
> \- Utatsuyama is a hill area in the north-east of Kanazawa, just next to Higashiyama and the Higashichaya geisha district. It's known as a temple area, with more than fifty temples and shrines scattered along narrow streets next to residential houses that march up the lower slopes. There is also a large number of small cemeteries, some which are still cleaned and maintained, others which are overgrown and lost to time. It was a lovely place to hike if you don't mind spiders.


	9. Scars (first half)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In other words, my grandmother and cousin, we the Sumeragi who are supposed to uphold the proper use of onmyoujitsu, have possibly turned our own clan head into a spiritual abomination?"
> 
> "Correct."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heartfelt apologies for the lack of activity on this project. It's the usual reasons - work, real life, travel, plus a bit of original writing on the side - combined with the very real fact that I need to balance four plot-lines (Subaru & Seishirou, Hokuto & Kakyou, Shouhei and the Sumeragi family, Yoshirou) across three locations, five major POVs, and over a dozen minor characters. In short, these next few chapters are HARD and rather than making everyone wait until heaven-knows-when in 2018 for a full chapter update, I thought I might as well upload the first ~5,600 words of Chapter 9 so that I can continue writing the rest with slightly less guilt!

There was nowhere to go except upstairs. Thankfully the Sakurazukamori didn’t follow—but _didn’t_ wasn't the same as _couldn’t_ or _wouldn’t_ , so Subaru hauled the stairs door shut. The heavy thud was reassuring. Then he realised there was no lock. Nor were there any locks on any of the rooms.

Subaru blocked the hall. There wasn’t much to work with: a stray chair, a low table from the room he’d woken up in. A pitiful effort that would topple with a shove. A chest of drawers from the other room could do more, but that was solid timber and hard to move. Still he tried. Better than sitting with his thoughts in the dark.

The drawers resisted. Subaru braced his feet and strained. _Hokuto-san is in the dojo at the moment,_ he remembered Shouhei saying, _why don't you go practice with her? It'll be good for you._

_It’s tiring to be awake like this._

The polished wood slid through his hands. Desperate, Subaru yanked his gloves off and fumbled for a stronger grip, cringing as scars stretched across bones— _You’re better. Do they hurt anymore?_

_No, Obaa-chan._

_I’m glad to hear it._ Blood beaded where a scab started splitting. _No, don’t touch them—_

He thought he felt the drawers wobble. Then his fingers slipped. Off-balance, Subaru fell back onto the tatami gasping for air. _Do you know precisely what your grandmother and cousin have been doing to help you?_ he heard the Sakurazukamori ask again.

 _Yes_ , he wanted to say, except it wasn’t true. All he knew was that whatever was being done, it made the world unreal and existence a dull horror. A glass cup, that’s how he thought of himself, a fragile figure of lines and edges desperate for something to fill between. Work. His grandmother's instructions. The hurts of others, enviable in their clarity and well-defined _why_. Nothing of his own other than pain, and even that was fleeting. It had never occurred to him that it wasn't normal. Or that it could birth an ikiryo.

 _The Sakurazukamori lies_ , he reminded himself, or was it his grandmother speaking? _They're foul, cannot be trusted—_ yet Hokuto supported everything the Sakurazukamori said. His twin would never lie to him. His twin had made him promise to give their family enemy a chance. Subaru’s breath began tripping—there were so many contradictions, so many revelations and implications he couldn't even begin to contemplate, his eyes squeezed shut beneath their weight, he wanted to dissolve back into hated peace—

Pain needled down his arm. Sharp. Bright, a star to cling to and light the way. The sting of broken skin. The snail-slow slide of blood over his wrist. Aching muscles, cooling sweat, his warm, full stomach. The unstoppable rise and fall of his chest, and the steady beat of his heart.

Subaru swallowed. Heaved his lungs until he could open his eyes and sit up. Lifting his hand to his lips, he sucked the place where skin had opened, tasting blood and hesitantly tracing the tip of his tongue along a scar's straight line. Alive. Soothing.

Real.

In the shadows, the chest of drawers stood unmoved. Leaves hissed in the wind outside, the only living thing he'd heard since fleeing upstairs. No one, not even the Sakurazukamori, was coming. Unsteadily, Subaru stood to make his way back to the main room. If thoughts tried to catch him— _betrayed, wrong, weak_ —he forced his focus back on his heartbeat and its feeling of _rightness_. Only when that became familiar did he gingerly let his mind expand.

 _My name is Sumeragi Subaru._ Real.

 _I am the twin of Sumeragi Hokuto._ Real.

 _I am an onmyouji, and the thirteenth head of the Sumeragi Clan._ Both real. _My grandmother, my teacher, has been helping me._

Something recoiled. Not real. Cringing, Subaru tried again. _My grandmother has done something to me. My cousin has done something to me._ Real, real. _Because of them, I feel empty._

_Because of them, I have forgotten._

A different pain filled him threatening to overwhelm. Subaru wiped his eyes and made himself continue. _I am the Sakurazukamori's prisoner. He hasn't killed me. He says I hold an ikiryo._ Real, real, real. _If I have an ikiryo, that means I am capable of feeling._

Real.

He was back in the bedroom. His bedroom. This too was real, like a shining mosaic piece ready for setting. Already he had enough for a foothold and he stood, trembling but determined, next to the barred window over the garden and pine tree, looking out to the black sky scattered with tiny stars. There were more pieces. He would find them, gather enough to make a path … a wind gust blew in carrying moonlight and the scent of water. No, not water. Ocean.

The blood on his hand was drying. Inexplicably Subaru thought of penguins, and didn’t see the shadows move.

 

 **December 1996**  
**Arakawa, Tokyo**

"An ikiryo?"

Hokuto sounded suspicious, but there was a waver beneath that made Kakyou tense. After five years of phone calls he had near-perfect pitch when it came to Hokuto's voice, and he knew the waver was the start of a hairline crack. He wondered if the Sakurazukamori could hear it.

"Almost an ikiryo. The potential is there, but he's not one yet." The man spoke calmly, even amiably on what was fast becoming the regular daily conference call. "He's still in control."

"Says you after what, two days? Shall I tell you about each time I've found him cutting himself in the last five years, because I remember all of—"

"What's an ikiryo?" Kakyou asked quickly.

Hokuto visibly caught herself. "It's a detached soul. They come from repressed emotion and go walking to cause trouble—"

"Not quite accurate," Sakurazuka interrupted, and Hokuto shot a glare at the phone between her and Kakyou. "The kanji for ikiryo is 'living ghost', as opposed to your typical ghost of a deceased. With an ikiryo, the wandering spirit still has a living body which it periodically leaves, usually during sleep, for some urgent purpose, and it won't rest until that purpose is fulfilled. Sometimes that purpose is benign, like a soldier yearning to see a faraway loved one on the eve of certain death, but if the ikiryo is born from intense hatred or passion, that purpose can be to wreak havoc or vengeance on people it believes has done them wrong."

Kakyou felt that sink in with a chill. "And that's Subaru-san?"

"Potentially. The ikiryo is manifesting, but hasn't developed a will to seek out a target. Yet."

"Like that girl," Hokuto said slowly. "The one with the shadow, Obaa-chama said that if something wasn't done she'd turn into something else. I told you about her, remember Kakyou?" Kakyou did, but Sakurazuka hadn't heard the story, so Hokuto quickly explained finishing, "The problem with an ikiryo is that the person manifesting is almost always unaware of what they're doing, and since the person isn't actually dead their ikiryo can't be exorcised. In that case Subaru was able to speak with the girl and bring her back, but otherwise the only way to permanently put an ikiryo to rest is to either let it fulfil its purpose, or wait until the person dies so that the ikiryo becomes an actual ghost and then exorcise it."

"You would wait," Sakurazuka said, darkly amused, "but if that girl hadn't been brought to your family, eventually I would have been asked to act."

Hokuto's face flickered with revulsion. "You'd kill a teenage—no, don't answer, I should already know." She took a breath. "So what's driving Subaru's ikiryo?"

"Pain, I suppose, he has enough of it."

"And how bad?"

"Given his spiritual power? Dangerous. I managed to hold my own, but your guess is as good as mine as to what would happen if he lost control completely."

"In other words, my grandmother and cousin, we the Sumeragi who are supposed to uphold the proper use of onmyoujitsu, have possibly turned our own clan head into a spiritual abomination?"

"Correct."

Hokuto closed her eyes and finally the crack spread, a soundless quake over the landscape of her face until tears shook free and fell. Kakyou's heart twisted, but then something the others had said clicked inside his head. "Maybe an ikiryo isn't all bad," he said.

Green eyes opened and leapt to his before darting to the phone in a way that irritated. He couldn't see Sakurazuka's reaction, of course. "What do you mean?" Hokuto demanded.

"I mean that it may be a good sign. This is the first time that Subaru-san has acted like this, so it's fair to say it's because of Sakurazuka, right? I'm not steeped in onmyoujitsu lore like you two, but in that other life I saw plenty of people with repressed memories or feelings that they could only show in dreams, and an ikiryo sounds like a spiritual manifestation of the same problem. For Subaru-san to have such an extreme reaction to Sakurazuka he must still remember him on some level, which makes me think that we're just dealing with the usual blocking spell, and your cousin didn't erase Subaru-san's memories like we feared."

Hokuto looked thoughtful. "That … does make sense. Ikiryo are born from intense emotion, after all, and Sei-chan definitely brings that up in Subaru."

"It's a reasonable point, but we don't know for sure." There was the briefest hesitation from the phone. "But I'm willing to work on that assumption until proven otherwise."

"Me too." Already Hokuto sounded brighter. "And if we're right, we just need to get rid of Shouhei's spell. Or wait until it wears down completely."

"How long does that take?" Sakurazuka demanded.

"I don't know. It's never happened before. Shouhei usually renewed the spell every two or three months, or when Subaru started to show signs of hurting himself, whichever came first."

Kakyou frowned. "Subaru-san was already doing that yesterday, wasn't he? Could that mean the spell is breaking down more quickly, especially now that he's actually being confronted with Sakurazuka?"

"Maybe. But we can't just sit back and let Subaru keep hurting himself—what if he does something worse than cutting? There has to be a better way."

"Is it still too early for Sakurazuka to try going Within?"

"Far too early," Sakurazuka said firmly. "Not only is Subaru not letting me touch him, doing so is what set off the ikiryo."

Hokuto's gaze narrowed. "What do you mean."

"I was trying to pull his gloves off. So I grabbed him."

"Did you _ask?_ "

"Of course not."

Kakyou winced while Hokuto put her head on the coffee table. "Sei-chan," she gritted out, "I know your relationship with Subaru is far from normal, but you can't just touch him without his say so. Even if Subaru was completely fine it's not okay, but given that he's _not_ fine it's _really_ not okay. Got that?"

Kakyou would have given good money to see Sakurazuka's face then. "Are you sure I didn't kill you in that other life for being a busybody?" Sakurazuka asked.

"You tell me. I don't remember anything, remember?"

"Pity. We could have a lovely time reminiscing."

"It fits so nicely next to our cookie baking afternoons. Is Subaru awake? Can I talk to him?"

"He's still upstairs and won't open the door. I haven't sensed any trouble though, he was quiet all night."

Hokuto bit her lip. "I guess after everything we've told him he needs some space to absorb. Though I'm probably going to spending most of the day inside, so if he wants to talk later just call."

"Finished all your shopping already?"

"More that I only brought so much cash, and I can't exactly ask my family to send over my allowance…"

As Hokuto and Sakurazuka talked, Kakyou realised his irritation was turning brittle. The two of them sounded so natural, so at ease even their barbs were smooth with intimacy. Kakyou tried telling himself it was for Subaru's sake, but it was a thin telling and couldn't paper over his resentment. Sakurazuka was a murderer, _Hokuto's_ murderer, he didn't deserve her friendship, so why was she giving it?

They were wrapping up. Hokuto rose onto her knees pointing a finger over the phone. "Cook some soups," she scolded. "It's going to snow up there, right? Also soups taste better the longer you leave them. And again, _be patient with him_."

"Yes, yes." Sakurazuka replied in a way that sounded like an impatient sigh. "Goodbye, Hokuto-chan."

"Bye."

She ended the call then put her head on the table with a groan. "Are you all right?" Kakyou demanded.

"Just … ugh. Sei-chan you _idiot_." The last word was dragged out into an exasperated whine, but when Hokuto looked up she was smiling tiredly. "I'm fine, but I think I'm going to be doing this a lot."

For a moment he saw it: Hokuto's hand on the Sakurazukamori's cheek, her smile as life faded from her eyes. The more recent memory of Hokuto trying to snatch car keys from Sakurazuka followed. Both times Kakyou's only thought had been to save her, but he’d succeeded only once. "Be careful with him," he warned. "You don't know what he's capable of."

"You don't have to remind me that Sei-chan is dangerous." She was starting to clean the coffee table which as well as the phone, also had their tea cups and used breakfast plates. "But I'm all the way in Tokyo, what can he do? Besides, we're friends."

He thought of a cold cavern lined with wires and how even with his fellow Dragons Sakurazuka held himself aloof. "I don't think the Sakurazukamori has friends."

"Well, Sei-chan is my friend. One I sometimes want to strangle, but still my friend. Not just for Subaru's sake, Sei-chan and I have always had our own thing. An understanding. It's hard to explain."

"Can you try?"

She paused cleaning to look at him. "When I found out that Sei-chan was the Sakurazukamori, I was horrified but not surprised. Right from the beginning I knew he was dangerous, I just … kind of accepted it. And when that part of him comes out on Subaru's behalf, I even like it.

"Sei-chan and I are alike. Something about our sense of humour and the care we take presenting ourselves to the world. We’re not idealistic. We'd have the best time shopping together, and share a ridiculous sweet tooth. And of course we're both selfish over Subaru to the point that we'd kill to protect him. Not that I've ever done that, of course," Hokuto added hastily, "and I hope I never will, but I can say, unequivocally, that if someone really hurt Subaru, I’d want to see them dead."

Her words were quiet, but not empty. She'd _asked_ Sakurazuka to kill her after all, just so she could cast one spell to tie his death to her brother’s. Kakyou hated remembering that. It made blaming Sakurazuka so much harder. "Your family—"

"I know." Hokuto's smile was pained. "And I don't know if I'd go that far. But just by saying that, aren't I already acknowledging that I'm not ruling it out? Besides, I did just help the Sakurazukamori attack my family, and ran off with him. Obaa-chama's probably already disowned me." Abruptly she stood to bustle the dirty plates to the kitchen. "How about I cook dinner tonight? I haven't cooked in ages, it’d be good to get back into it—is there anything in particular you'd like?"

A traitorous part of Kakyou wondered what Sakurazuka would do. "I, um, anything's fine," he managed to say, and inwardly cringed at how awkward that sounded. "Do you want to go food shopping?"

"It's fine, I'm going to see what can be used up in your kitchen first—if that's okay, of course," she added hastily.

"Of course it's okay, like I said, make yourself at home—"

"I know you did, but still—"

"—really, I don't mind anything—"

"—living like this for a while—"

They stopped. Stared at each other across the apartment's living area, which Kakyou had never thought of as small but now could describe no other way, and Hokuto’s presence was very large. It seemed a marvel that she was alive and here. At the same time, Kakyou couldn't help thinking of how when Sakurazuka revealed that he was taking Subaru to Kanazawa, Hokuto wanted to go with them leaving Kakyou to drive to Tokyo alone. It was understandable given her closeness with her twin, but now hearing how Sakurazuka was also special, what room did she have for him?

Hokuto's cheeks were faintly pink. Kakyou warmed and looked away. “I should go. University, I’ve missed enough classes these past two weeks.” Had it really only been that long since he woke up and remembered? "You have my spare keys, so if you need something you can always go out and get it.”

“...Sure.”

She sounded uncertain, so Kakyou moved quickly. Bag. Coat. Keys. Scarf. For good measure he fetched his sports bag and threw in a fresh gi—it was also two weeks since his last practice, and he really needed to work off this mood. Hokuto watched him all the way to the apartment door. “Itterrashai,” she called.

“Ittekimasu.”

He left without looking back, breathing easier when he reached the street. He knew he was being stupid. Sakurazuka only had eyes for Hokuto's brother, and Hokuto would never see Sakurazuka that way. Yet their very closeness, their ease and humour together that even murder couldn’t destroy, was sand in old wounds. New ones, too.

Kakyou loved Hokuto. Had done so for a long time, though without realising it until that other life intruded. Now she was with him. _Living_ with him, except not only did Kakyou have zero idea if Hokuto returned his feelings, this was the opposite of a good time to bring it up. She already had enough problems to deal with.

She didn’t need his.

 

**Sagano, Kyoto**

"We don't _know_ that they're in Tokyo," Katsumi said as Shouhei entered the library. "Even if they are, Tokyo is massive. We're better off waiting for specific direction from Sumeragi-sama."

"And how much longer is that going to be?" countered Takeshi. "Three days she's been searching, and the fact that it's been so long means that the Sakurazukamori must be hiding them even from her sight. We’ll have to use other ways, and Tokyo is the logical place to start—"

"Since when are you so eager to save Subaru-san?" Katsumi put down the ofuda she was making trying to sneer around her bandaged nose. "Just last New Year you were complaining how poor Subaru-san was a cosseted flower-boy and the family deserved a clan head with actual balls. You don’t want to go to Tokyo for his sake, you want to prove yourself a viable alternative!"

Unnoticed behind the shelves, Shouhei felt knotted shoulders tighten further. Everyone was rightly tense waiting for Lady Sumeragi to return from trance, but there was a line between a short tether and straight out provocative which Katsumi was crossing. Not that she wasn't right. "So what if I am?" Takeshi retorted. "Yes we need to do everything to save Subaru-san but let’s face it, there’s a real chance that we won’t reach him alive. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought the same."

Katsumi didn't reply, but her thinned lips gave speeches. As Shouhei watched from the shadows, Takeshi leaned over Katsumi's desk and lowered his voice saying, "I'm not suggesting that we give up hope, absolutely not, only that we prepare for every possibility. If Subaru-san is killed the twelfth will have to name a new thirteenth. I know you don’t want the position, but if you help me I promise I’ll name Eri-chan as fourteenth—”

That did it. Stepping out, Shouhei let his pile of books slam onto a nearby table and felt a stab of satisfaction when the others jumped. "Pardon me, the door was open," he said shortly. "Pretty careless when you're plotting a conspiracy."

"Kitajima-kun!"

"Oh please," Takeshi huffed. "There's no need to make it sound so scandalous. I'm merely voicing what everyone is thinking."

"You mean what your father is thinking. I already heard him bring it up and Sumeragi-sama was having none of it."

Takeshi's face darkened. "She might not have a choice. If Subaru-san is killed—"

"The Sakurazukamori won't kill him!" Shouhei snapped, and there it was, the end of his tether. “Say what you like about Hokuto-san, but she would never deliberately hurt her twin, and unlike you I _saw_ the Sakurazukamori take Subaru-san. That was not the face of a man who wanted Subaru-san dead, and none of _us_ are dead though the Sakurazukamori absolutely could have left us that way. Doesn’t that say something?”

"Only that the Sakurazukamori isn't as good as his reputation."

"Says the one who spent the attack knocked out with sakanagi." Katsumi's eyes glittered above her bandaged nose. "If you actually fought the Sakurazukamori you wouldn't dismiss him like that. What are _you_ saying, Kitajima-kun?"

Shouhei blinked at her, surprised. "That the Sakurazukamori's actions don't fit with our expectations."

"In what way specifically?"

He pointed at the books he'd slammed down. Family records, old case reports, accounts and diaries from long-dead relatives some dating back centuries. Any reference to the Sakurazukamori that Shouhei could find, anything to distract his constant worrying. "We all grew up with the stories. The Sakurazukamori are trash. The Sakurazukamori corrupt the tradition we uphold by using onmyoujitsu to kill. The Sakurazukamori are our sworn enemy. They're truths we take for granted until you start digging.

"In six centuries, we’ve had less than a dozen recorded incidents of open conflict with the Sakurazukamori. All but one were initiated by us. The 'but one' is the murder of tenth clan head Sumeragi Sadao in 1863, which I've now realised always overlooks how Sadao was actively involved with the _sonno joi_ and used divination to encourage the emperor to pass the edict expelling foreigners. Aside from those, our feud with the Sakurazukamori is pretty much a cold war. We'll hear of their work and sometimes cross paths enough to turn into open challenge, but otherwise? The Sakurazukamori leaves us alone."

“So why attack now?"

Shouhei hesitated. Picked his next words carefully. "He didn't attack us, he wanted Subaru-san. We just happened to be in the way."

"I don’t see how that's any better," Takeshi said. "Even if the Sakurazukamori doesn’t kill Subaru-san like last time, what will be left? Look at the last five years. Tolerating a damaged head when the twelfth can prop him up is one thing, but when she goes? I’m not the only one who’d object to having a clan head who's practically broken, or brainwashed like his silly sister. I definitely wouldn't trust him to teach Katsumi’s children—"

" _I'll_ speak for my children, thank you very much!"

"So that's it?" Shouhei demanded. "You've decided there's no point saving Subaru-san?"

"When did I say that?" Takeshi shot back. "Subaru-san is family, we have to help him. That doesn't mean he should be clan head. And before you criticise, you don't get a say on succession, _Kitajima-kun._ "

It hung in the air, insult and barrier and dirty laundry all in one. Shouhei realised he couldn’t breathe. Before he did anything he couldn’t take back, he spun on his heel and stormed out.

The corridor ran by the garden. Shouhei spotted gardeners carefully trimming back burned bushes. Another servant was scrubbing scorch marks from the veranda. Soon the Sumeragi Estate would look presentable again, and Shouhei tucked fists into his haori sleeves as he walked faster. It wasn't just having his bastardry thrown in his face, which for all its pain was tired and familiar. No, what made him really, helplessly furious was the cold logic of Takeshi's reasoning, and the fact that he agreed. Subaru _wasn't_ well, hadn't been for five years, and while the Sakurazukamori had dealt the original hurt, Shouhei had kept Subaru from healing. On Lady Sumeragi's orders. The excuse gave no relief nowadays.

Maybe that was why Hokuto had turned her back on them. Maybe that was why Sakurazuka had come. Maybe for all the abuse Subaru had suffered at Sakurazuka’s hands, what Lady Sumeragi and Shouhei had done to Subaru was, in its own way, even worse.

Thoughts like this had kept Shouhei awake through the darkest hours of the past few nights. Drenched with sweat and guilt, at his lowest Shouhei would wonder if Subaru would be happier being left with Sakurazuka. Then he'd remember that Subaru couldn’t be happy because he no longer knew Sakurazuka, and Sakurazuka couldn’t undo the blocking spell.

Onmyoujitsu was spiritual magic. Every spell from the simplest ward to the most bespoke mind-craft was unique to its caster, and only the caster could undo their spell as if it had never been. A more powerful onmyouji could _break_ a spell but with consequences: potential injury, collateral destruction, certainly sakanagi upon the caster. Presuming that Sakurazuka sought to shatter the memory blocking spell—and Shouhei was certain the man would try, with Hokuto’s urging—that meant damage on three fronts: Lady Sumeragi, Shouhei, and Subaru.

Shouhei had seen enough in Subaru’s memories to know his power paled next to Sakurazuka’s. For himself who’d spent five years refining the spell, there would be no avoiding the sakanagi. The same went for Lady Sumeragi who had laid the spell’s foundation. As for Subaru and his already fragile sanity...

"Ow!"

Shouhei stumbled. Righted his glasses and looked down at the small figure sitting against the corner he'd just rounded. "Sorry, Eri-chan," he said curtly, already moving on before he realised that the girl was sniffling. "Wait, did I hurt you?"

"N-no."

She sounded like she’d been crying for a while. Worried, Shouhei knelt and found Eri’s nose running. "Are you in trouble?" She shook her head and fluid dripped from her chin. Shouhei fished out his handkerchief. "So why are you hiding here?"

"I'm not—" Eri scraped the handkerchief over her face then attempted her usual pout. "I’m being quiet. Not hiding.”

“Because your brother is napping?"

"Trying. He's having nightmares."

And he wasn't alone, going by Eri's sunken eyes. Shouhei bit his lip. "He won’t come back. The bad man, I mean."

"You mean the Sakurazukamori."

"...Yes."

"Is Subaru-san dead?"

"No. At least, I don’t think so."

"I think he is. Hokuto-nee-san too." Eri spoke with far too much certainty. "It's the Sakurazukamori."

Growing up with stories. Truths taken for granted. "What the Sakurazukamori does and what we think he does don’t always match," Shouhei said, sighing as he sat next to her on the cold floor. "I thought he was going to kill me, but he didn’t. He scared you, I know, but did he hurt you when you tried to stop him?"

"...No. But he hurt Mama and Hiroshi-jii-san and Oba-san and you—"

"And we’re alive. We'll get better. I don’t see your mama's nose stopping her scoldings, do you?" A smile ghosted over Eri's lips that Shouhei forced himself to return. "So you shouldn't give up. We'll get Subaru-san back, and Hokuto-nee-san as well."

"I don't want to. Not if Mama has get them."

"It'll just be another work trip—"

"I don’t want her to go!" The words cracked, high-pitched and terrified in a way no child so ever sound. "I don't want her hurt again, I don't want her to not come back—"

She dissolved into sobs. Shouhei opened his mouth, thought better of it, then gently placed an arm around Eri's shaking shoulders. He couldn't reassure her. Sakurazuka hadn't killed anyone this time, true, but only a fool would expect that a second time. Especially if that fool was hunting him down.

The wooden floor drummed with footsteps. Takeshi and Katsumi were hurrying towards them. "She's awake," Katsumi said to the obvious question. "She wants to—Eri-chan? What are you doing, are you all right?"

The girl scrambled to her feet still clutching Shouhei's handkerchief. "I'm fine, mama.

"Is it the bad dreams? Oh darling, you're an onmyouji, what have I said about being brave?"

"But I dreamed that you were killed—"

Shouhei was already up and running down the corridor, but spared a moment to glance back. Eri was clutching her mother's waist and her little body shook like jelly. Katsumi in turn had wrapped Eri in an embrace as she whispered reassurances, but her face was grim. Eventually she pushed Eri away and followed Shouhei and Takeshi to Lady Sumeragi's rooms.

Others were already there. Takehiko stood by the door directing servants to fetch water and let in fresh air, while Nuriko had wrapped an arm around Lady Sumeragi and was helping her sit upright. Shouhei nearly gasped—his teacher was corpse-pale, her white hair grey with sweat and cheeks sunken to a depth that would horrify any doctor. Still her eyes were bright. "Please, cousin, you've done enough," Nuriko was saying. "You absolutely must rest now."

"There's already been too much time wasted." Her voice came out as a croak.

"Did you at least find them?" Takeshi demanded.

"No. There's a powerful concealing spell in place." Gripping Nuriko's arm, Lady Sumeragi tried to pull herself to stand only to collapse as her legs gave way. "But they're my grandchildren, and I definitely sense their presence in Tokyo. Somewhere in the north-east around the Sumida."

"That's not much to start with," said Katsumi.

"But still a start," Takehiko added, exchanging a look with his son. "There are other ways of searching once in the area. Or perhaps, cousin, you could go Tokyo yourself—"

"Absolutely not!" Nuriko snapped. "Bad enough that she’s already defied medical advice to do this, and now you’re encouraging her to push even further? No, no, a thousand times no!"

As the kindly aunt Nuriko didn't often put her foot down, meaning when she did it was better to agree. Even Lady Sumeragi didn't object, and that alone told Shouhei how bad she was. "Takeshi-san and Katsumi-san will go to Tokyo," she said between breaths. "Their combined skills give them the best chance of finding and defeating the Sakurazukamori."

Takeshi bowed, and after a moment Katsumi did too, her jaw set. Shouhei thought of what they'd said in the library, thought of either of them taking Subaru’s rightful place, and found himself angry. "I'll go too," he said.

Everyone turned to him. "Thank you, Kitajima-kun, but I believe that Katsumi and I will be enough," Takeshi said coldly.

"Are you sure, Shouhei-kun?” Nuriko asked. “Combat has never been your strength."

"I know. But I can help with the search, and have a contact in Tokyo who might be able to discretely help." So far Ishikuro Yoshirou was yet to return Shouhei’s call, but given that he worked in the Tokyo MPD he was probably busy. This matter was better explained in person anyway. "More than that, I've been looking after Subaru-san ever since the Sakurazukamori attacked him five years ago. Just like then, when we find the twins we’ll need to be ready to handle whatever condition Subaru-san is in. I’m the best one to do that."

He met Lady Sumeragi's gaze knowing she would take his meaning. Not just in regards to Subaru but also themselves—and Lady Sumeragi especially was in no condition to withstand sakanagi of any magnitude. At the same time, Shouhei hoped his teacher didn't take his whole meaning, namely that if given the chance, Shouhei would undo the spell.

Hokuto was right. Interfering in Subaru's mind was a mistake. There were better ways to free Subaru from Sakurazuka's abusive influence without leaving him a vulnerable wreck.

Lady Sumeragi nodded. "Very well. All three of you will go to Tokyo. I will follow later when possible." She ignored Nuriko's pleading look to give Takeshi and Katsumi a hard stare. "And all of you will work together. You're family after all."

Someone took a sharp breath as Takeshi’s eyes widened. "Kitajima-kun isn't—"

"Over the past few days, I have given much thought to this family," Lady Sumeragi said, her voice stronger. "Do not mistake me: Subaru-san is my grandson and heir, and I will never give up on him. But I recognise the reality of this crisis. I also recognise that this is one wrong that should have been mended long ago."

Shouhei couldn’t grasp what was happening. Even when Lady Sumeragi hobbled towards him leaning on Nuriko’s arm, his mind refused to believe it. "Shouhei, son of Kitajima Mieko, grandson of my brother Sumeragi Shinichi. For years you have given invaluable service to this family as one of us in all but name. As the twelfth head of the Sumeragi clan, I now acknowledge your place in this family's legacy and recognise you as kin. I do so before our family, both living and dead, so that all may welcome you. I command too that the _koseki_ be amended so that the world may know.

"You are family, Sumeragi Shouhei. May you bear your name with pride."

It still didn't feel real, the words, the stunned silence, the smile on Nuriko's face. Only when Shouhei began to shake did everything sink in and he sank with it, to his knees, his hands, and finally the floor. He touched his forehead to Lady Sumeragi's kimono hem, and as it darkened with his tears and thanks he felt a tremor, visceral and deep, like earthen plates shifting against each other, grinding into one imperfect whole.

 

 _next:_ subaru & seishirou in kanazawa; yoshirou faces his dying father; and a chance meeting in a kanazawa bar  
(seriously, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this fic for so many years / sending me encouragement on [Twitter@_leareth](https://twitter.com/_leareth) you are THE BEST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- _Sonno joi_ (尊皇攘夷) means 'revere the Emperor, expel the barbarians' and refers to the anti-foreigner movement in 1850-60s Japan. This sentiment was personally supported by the Emperor of the time, who issued an imperial "Order to expel barbarians" on 11 March 1863 ([Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_to_expel_barbarians)).


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